


Expiration Dates

by KaliopeShipsIt



Series: I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Laura Hale, Angst, BAMF Erica, Bottom Derek, But before that there are misunderstandings, Danny Mpreg, Derek mpreg, Discrimination, Drama, Family Secrets, Hurt Derek, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mpreg, Mutual Pining, No one is a werewolf, Oblivious Derek, Oblivious Stiles, Pining Derek, Pining Stiles, Slow Build, Sterek endgame, Threats of Violence, Top Stiles Stilinski, Unplanned Pregnancy, human!AU, mentions of past non-con, mentions of past violence, political activism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-03-21 11:22:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 226,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3690390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaliopeShipsIt/pseuds/KaliopeShipsIt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When 13-year old orphaned Derek Hale tests positive as a male carrier, his newly appointed guardian and uncle Peter uses his influence to make the test result go away, aware that in their deeply carrier-phobic society his nephew’s status could prove to be the downfall of the family company.</p><p>16 years later Derek is pressured into firing eight months-pregnant Danny Mahealani, creating a publicity scandal that, as the Equal Rights for Carriers movement gains more and more ground, results in an unprecedented media outrage targeted towards Hale & Argent Publishers. </p><p>A very reluctant Derek finds himself forced into defending his company’s prejudiced views on national television, facing off in heated debates against Stiles Stilinski, a guy he happened to have a one-night stand with months ago and has been pining over ever since. Stiles is a disgruntled former Hale & Argent employee, a staunch supporter of the ERC movement, he hates everything Derek stands for … and, courtesy of an expired condom, he’s also, unknowingly, the father of the child Derek wasn’t even aware he could carry in the first place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In the Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer 1: I do not own Teen Wolf or any of its characters.
> 
> Disclaimer 2: Please do not put this story on Goodreads. 
> 
>  
> 
> I have been working on this for almost four months and I don't think I've ever written a fan fiction quite this long (I do not have a final count quite yet but the story passed the 100 K about two chapters ago, it's fully plotted, the last chapter plus epilogue is done and I'm just filling out some blank spots) so when I say slow-build I mean slow-build ;).
> 
> Updates will be twice a week for now and, as per my usual writing-style, this story will include romance bits, humor bits, angsting, and also some rather dark stuff that I will warn you about in the relevant chapter beginning-notes (don't forget it takes place in a somewhat dystopian version of our society, so consider yourself blank-check warned).
> 
> I am putting this story in my "I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant Series" but it'll significantly deviate from the others in that it (Spoiler) will NOT be a 40 Weeks of Oblivion Story and instead will devote a good chunk of time to the discovery fall-out, which I only briefly alluded to in the other stories in this series.
> 
> One more thing: I played around with some age differences in the story and I am including almost all of the known characters from season 1-3B, who will - for the most part - do things that could be considered canon-typical (with a notable exception of Laura, who I am taking some great creative license with here in going against the common trope of BAMF!Laura).

**_Prologue_ **

 

“I’m afraid the test came back positive,” Dr. Blake said cautiously, sitting down at her desk and facing a man whose smile had slipped off his face and left behind a carefully blank mask.

The silence dragged on for almost a minute before Peter Hale exhaled loudly, a hand coming up to tug at his hair in frustration.

“Are you one hundred percent sure?” he asked, glaring at the doctor as if he could change the results by sheer will alone and Dr. Blake sighed as she handed him a grimy black and white photo.

“I personally checked the blood work twice and performed an ultrasound on your nephew just to be sure – I’m afraid there is no doubt about it. He is definitely a carrier.”

She slowly leaned forward, clearly wary of the stormy expression on Peter’s face as she pointed towards the photo.

“Do you see this right here? That is the newly developed uterus. And these right here are …”

“Alright, I get it,” Peter interrupted her with a grimace, dropping the picture as if it had burned his hand.

“This is completely unacceptable,” he muttered softly, his eyebrows drawn together as he rubbed the tips of his fingers against each other in deep contemplation.

“I’m sorry Mr. Hale, I know this must come as a shock to you but …”

“Can you remove it?” Peter interrupted her again and Dr. Blake bristled.

“Certainly, if you want me to perform the procedure somewhere in a dark back-alley, which, I might add, would be the only way for me to get away with removing completely healthy organs from a minor!” she snapped and Peter rubbed his temples, sighing in frustration.

When he looked at the doctor again his gaze was cool and calculating.

“We might not be able to remove it from his body _physically_ , but wouldn’t you agree that it would be much easier to remove this from his records?” he asked and Dr. Blake gaped at him.

“I beg your pardon?” she exclaimed and Peter held up his hand to stop her, gaze turning from calculating to downright cruel.

“I’m sure you understand how vital it is for me that this information stays between the two of us and I am sure you would be willing to accommodate me here, given your former … uhm … _activities_.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about!” Dr. Blake said sharply and Peter smiled.

“Are you sure … Miss Baccari?”

Dr. Blake paled, the hand that had been reaching for the phone slumping onto the desk in defeat.

Peter grinned widely.

“Let’s call this an exchange of favors my dear. I will continue to remain silent about the more .. ahem … _violent_ aspects of your past and in turn you will do everything in your power to make sure that my nephew is registered as a non-carrier. You will also make sure that there will never be any reason for him or anyone else to suspect otherwise. I feel that these are reasonable terms, don’t you think so?” he said and Dr. Blake’s face twitched violently.

“I … even if I agreed to do the forgery, there is no way for me to guarantee that your nephew will never find out about this carrier status! His blood work actually suggests a heightened degree of fertility, so he would have to get regular birth control injections for at least the next thirty years if he engages in sexual intercourse with other men! How am I supposed to explain that away?!” she exclaimed angrily and Peter shrugged.

“I am sure there is some sort of nasty disease that has no symptoms if treated regularly, I am confident that you can come up with a reason for my dear nephew to receive these injections on a monthly basis,” he said, sounding almost pleasant.

“I could lose my job over this!” Dr. Blake muttered; her hands twitching nervously in her lap and Peter smirked.

“You could lose a lot more if the public ever finds out what happened to dear little Julia Baccari … think about that,” he said and once again silence hung heavy in the office.

When she spoke next Dr. Blake sounded resigned.

“There is a blood condition. Easy to manage if treated regularly and just common enough for no one to get suspicious, including your nephew. I can have the paperwork ready by the beginning of the next month and we can start administering the birth control injections as soon as I have made my official diagnosis,” she explained, looking at Peter unhappily when the oldest surviving member of the Hale family nodded appreciatively.

“I knew coming to you was the right decision. You understand the importance of discretion. And you will be rewarded for your troubles,” he smirked; grin widening when Dr. Blake flinched.

With his threatening smile firmly in place Peter stood, grabbing his coat and heading towards the door to retrieve Derek from the waiting room.

His fingers were already on the door-handle when he turned around again, expression uncharacteristically somber.

“My family has suffered a lot in the past year, my dear nephew and my poor nieces especially. The loss of their parents and more than half of our family has been very hard on them. The company is the only thing they have left, their only way to honor their parents by carrying on the family business. If the news that Derek is a carrier were to get out … this could not only ruin us financially but also emotionally. You are doing the right thing,” he said, nodding towards the doctor once more before he left the room.

Julia Baccari, who had gone on a murder-spree at the age of nineteen and killed eight people before changing her face and identity, sighed heavily, her fingers tracing the small surgical scar below her ear.

It was by no means the worst she had ever done in her life, but as she set to work on forging the documents needed to ensure that Derek Hale, the grieving, terrified thirteen year old orphan she had examined only hours earlier, would be able to follow in his parents’ footsteps and reside on top of the food chain, rather than the bottom, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this would all blow up in her face one day.

 

**_16 Years Later_ **

Derek was in a horrible mood when he got home from work on the first Thursday of January and the sight of not only one but both of his sisters waiting for him in his loft did nothing to improve his grumpiness.

“Does privacy mean _anything_ to anyonein this family?” he snapped, sighing heavily as he walked straight towards the fridge to get out a beer.

“You were the one who insisted we all had keys to each other’s places for security purposes,” Laura said reasonably from her spot on the couch, a concentrated frown on her face as she once again attempted to French braid Cora’s hair.

Cora, who had made herself comfortable on the floor by using Derek’s largest sofa cushion – they neither had respect for his privacy nor for his furniture – nodded automatically, hissing when Laura accidentally pulled at her hair a little too roughly.

“And to what do I owe the pleasure of this completely unwelcome visit?” Derek asked as he walked back towards the living room area, sinking into the armchair and taking a large gulp of his beer.

“It’s not even 6 yet, Derek,” Laura chided, following it up with a soft curse as another strand of hair slipped between her fingers.

“It’s casual Friday tomorrow, give him a break for drinking his one allotted beer per quarter,” Cora said, eyes narrowing as she stared at her older brother.

“That being said, you look like shit Der,” she observed dryly and Derek rolled his eyes.

“Thanks, I love you, too,” he snapped, one hand going to his temple and rubbing furiously.

“What’s wrong baby-bro? Bad day at the office?”

Derek shrugged.

“Try ‘worst’ and you’re getting closer to the truth,” he replied, taking another large gulp of his beer and frowning when he realized that he had almost managed to drain the entire thing in not even a minute.

“The Danny-Situation?” Cora asked and Derek nodded, his expression turning from frustrated to unhappy in an instant.

“Danny? Who is Danny?” Laura asked, the unruly mess on Cora’s head momentarily forgotten as she looked between her younger siblings curiously.

“Derek had to fire a pregnant guy today and he’s been angsting over it all week,” Cora supplied helpfully and Derek’s frowned deepened when Laura let out a rather judgmental huff.

 _Hale & Argent _was one of the largest, most successful book publishers in the country, founded by Derek, Laura, and Cora’s mother Talia and Chris Argent, the son of one of the most well known weapon-manufacturers in the nation, who, at the time, had wanted to prove a point to his father.

The company had survived quite a few setbacks in its almost twenty years of publishing history, most notably the tragic death of Talia, her husband, and her parents in a house fire sixteen years ago.

Laura, Derek, and Cora had been at school at the time of the fire and had been left under the guardianship of their uncle Peter, the only one who had managed to flee the burning house.

Peter had automatically taken over Talia’s role in the company, sharing the CEO position with Chris Argent and his younger sister Kate, and after a couple of years first Laura, then Derek, and most recently Cora had joined in the family business.

Laura was currently head of the publicity department, a job that seemed to be made for her as she had always been quite at ease when talking to strangers and sweet-talking them into her point of view.

Cora had initially wanted to work in the accounting department to avoid “daily interactions with idiots” but had been pressured by Peter to join Human Resources instead, giving in to his demands that a Hale should keep an eye on the new talent going in and out.

Cora despised both her job and Peter with an equally fiery passion.

Derek, meanwhile, had been promoted to oversee the company’s website two years prior, a job that also included responsibility for parts of the IT-department, as the two often had to work together.

It was because of this responsibility that he had been put in charge of delivering the news of his professional termination to Danny Mahealani that afternoon.

“It’s a shame, you know?” Cora mused, interrupting Derek’s rather uncomfortable trip down the memory lane – and the devastated yet furious expression on Mahealani’s face – as she reached for a bag of pretzels on the couch table.

“He is a really nice guy, pretty genius, too, his supervisor came to my office earlier this week and practically begged me to let the firm policy slide for once. I’m pretty sure Finstock will let me wait for hours the next time I have a computer emergency, just so he can show me how upset he is,” she said and Laura snorted.

“How that guy ever became a supervisor of _anything_ is beyond me. So he was pregnant then? The Danny-Guy?” she asked and Derek nodded with a sigh.

“Pretty far along, too, he obviously tried to hide it for as long as he could,” he answered, flinching when Laura exhaled loudly.

Derek loved his sisters equally, but every now and then it almost scared him just how much control Peter had over his older sister at times, certain that if it hadn’t been for their uncle and his rather conservative views on certain issues Laura couldn’t have cared less about male carriers or their position in the workplace.

As he had done many times before, Derek sent a silent thank you to whichever deity responsible for making sure he hadn’t been born a carrier, wondering if those people’s rights would ever improve in society and if he would actually get to see it in his life-time.

Granted, there had definitely been progress in the past decades, as the screening-tests and carrier-cards had been implemented across the nation and secured their protection against hate-crimes in the process, but even though male carriers were no longer persecuted when they actually decided to carry a child to term, their professional options still left much to be desired.

Every boy at the age of 13 was tested, since male carriers often didn’t developed their carrying capabilities until they hit puberty and earlier tests tended to be unreliable. Those who tested positive and were also in possession of a functioning uterus and ovaries – which was not always a given, as, just like with women, carrying abilities and actual fertility were not mutually exclusive – received a red ‘C’ on their identification documents, making it impossible for them to go undetected in any official capacity.

In theory they could apply to every job they wanted to, but it was a well-known fact that no carrier had ever been hired into a well-paying position with responsibility for more than one other employee at a time and businesses were still not forbidden from imposing strict procreation rules on their male carrier employees.

 _Hale & Argent _had frequently come under attack from the nation’s equal-rights groups in the past couple of years, ever since Kate Argent had joined her brother and Peter as a Chief Executive Officer and decreed that any male carrier who became pregnant was to be let go immediately.

It was a clause that every new employee had to sign and was made aware of very thoroughly in the interviewing process and Derek sometimes wondered why they still had male carriers working for them at all, since there were many other companies out there whose laws regarding their male carrier employees weren’t quite that strict.

Not to mention the very few companies who actually included male pregnancy in their medical insurance coverage _and_ offered paid paternity leave.

The majority of the country and its leading businesses, however, were still very much opposed to having male carriers working for them and there were still conservative voices who occasionally demanded for all male carriers to be sterilized against their will.

Cora didn’t really care one way or the other, only paying attention to the issue when she had to read that particular part of the contract to a new carrier-employee, but Laura was in full support of the firm’s policy.

“It’s not that I’m saying they aren’t real men,” she had explained to Derek once, her eyes stating very explicitly that that was exactly what she was saying, “but the minute they become pregnant their ability to perform their jobs is pretty much gone. None of our male employees will respect a pregnant man and neither will many of the women. If society as a whole were different then maybe, just maybe, we could be more lenient about this, but as it is, male carriers who are actually choosing to carry a child to term simply disrupt the company too much.”

Derek himself had always felt somewhat ambivalent about the issue. On the one hand he certainly felt secure enough in his, for lack of a better word, manliness not to feel ‘threatened’ by the male carriers, as seemed to be the case with many of the more severely carrier-phobic guys at the office, and it wasn’t like these men could help it since they had, quite simply, been born this way.

On the other hand, however, he was fiercely glad that it wasn’t an issue he had to concern himself with, grateful that he didn’t have to suffer because of their largely intolerant society.

It wasn’t so much a threat to his masculinity, rather, the thought of being a pregnant man made him uneasy in ways that he couldn’t quite explain.

It was … complicated.

And yes, he did occasionally feel a bit guilty for staying silent whenever his uncle or Laura started talking about the issue, but on the few occasions that he had actually tried to hint that maybe the company could ease up on their rules just a little bit Peter had gotten extremely weird and defensive, and an extremely weird and defensive Peter was just unpleasant to be around in general.

“So how did he take it then?” Cora asked, once again interrupting his train of thought and Derek huffed.

“What do you think? He wasn’t happy. He knew it was coming, obviously, but I think he was hoping for us to make an exception just this one time? He is pretty much invaluable in the IT-department, has been ever since he started working there four years ago, the place will be a mess for at least a week or so, maybe more now that he’s gone,” he answered.

Cora sighed.

“I’ve been interviewing potential replacements all week. No one’s as good as him, it’s a damn shame!” she exclaimed, ignoring Laura’s muttered, “It’s a damn shame he couldn’t stick to his contract!”

“Do we know who turned him in?” Derek asked and Cora shrugged.

“Of course I know; I’m the one who did all the paperwork after all. The question is, does it really matter?” she asked and Derek sighed loudly.

“I guess it doesn’t. Though I bet Finstock would _love_ to chew out whoever cost him his best employee,” he muttered, getting up to open his second bottle of beer.

When he returned to the armchair Cora was grinning.

“When you put it that way … let me just say that Matt Dahler from the Creative Department is going to be in for a treat when he crashes his computer next time with one of his fancy Photoshop programs,” she snickered and Derek mock-saluted his younger sister with his bottle.

“Speaking of _fancy_ ,” Laura said, obviously determined to steer the conversation away from male carriers and their woes, “I certainly hope you are going to clean up nice for the annual beginning of the year reception tomorrow night. And by clean up nice I mean deliciously-fuckable nice,” she smirked, grinning when Derek winced.

“ _Laura_ ,” Derek groaned, shooting Cora a betrayed look when his younger sister shrugged with a not at all compassionate grin.

“She’s right Der, you haven’t hooked up with anyone ever since She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named two years ago. It’s about time you go out and have some fun again,” she said, swatting away Laura’s hands impatiently when their older sister tugged at the half-finished braid in frustration.

“Consider this an intervention oh beloved baby-brother of mine. You were, quite frankly, a high-strung pain to be around this entire last holiday season and what I mean by that is you really, _really_ need to get laid.”

“It’s really, _really_ none of your business,” Derek snarked back, imitating her tone on purpose but Laura just shrugged.

“You can go and deny it all you want but I _have_ seen your online history and it was not pretty,” she said, grinning when Derek spat out a sip of beer in shock.

“ _Privacy?!_ ” he barked and Laura shook her head.

“I’m on your computer all the time when I’m here and I check your history for my stuff, too, it was inevitable that I’d stumble over yours one day,” she said casually and Derek groaned.

“Even if I needed to get laid – which I don’t, obviously – the last place I’d do that is at a company reception. You and me are going to be part of the executive one day, I can’t just go around hooking up with my future employees!” he protested, glaring at Cora when she shook her head with an amused smile.

“You’re responsible for two departments Derek, the rest of our employees are people you will probably never ever come into contact with again, even after you’ve made CEO in about twenty years, which is just about as long as it will take you and Laura to use your combined forces to tear the scepter of power from Peter’s greedy, clammy hands. I’m sure your _scandalous_ hook-up will be long forgotten by then.”

Her smile widened, expression rather pleased as she popped another handful of pretzels into her mouth.

“I actually have someone in mind for you. He’s totally your type, maybe a bit too loud for your liking, but I can almost guarantee you that you two will hit it off. He’s in Editing, the research division. When he’s not fact-checking some of our more fantasy and sci-fi themed books – and don’t even ask me how one can _fact-check_ werewolf lore of all things, he claims it’s an art – he’s actually a really cool guy, a bit nerdy but nice. I have had drinks with him and some of his friends before, we went to University together.”

Derek snorted.

“Just how many of the people you went to school with actually work at the company?” he asked, thinking about Erica, his personal assistant, who had blazed into his office three years ago on highest recommendation of Cora and started micro-managing his life to his absolute satisfaction.

Cora had the decency to blush.

“Not … many. Erica, Boyd, who’s also in the IT department but occasionally gets lent out to your website staff, Lydia in Accounting – boy is that woman a goddess with numbers –, Jackson in Marketing … now that one actually wasn’t a friend of mine but if you do Lydia Martin a favor that’s always good. We used to have Isaac in Sales, but he left after the first week, I don’t think either of you met him. He’s super hot and I’m sure he would have been a hit with the clients, but who could have known his supervisor had a scarf-phobia. It was a shame, but you gotta admire a man who defends his dress-choices even in 100 degree weather and against a hysterically screaming old guy. Then there’s Scott, who’s in Human Resources with me because those puppy dog eyes can appease even the angriest employee, and then of course we have Stiles in Editing. Technically, I guess we’d have to count Allison as well, but she’s an Argent, so I really didn’t have anything to do with her becoming one of the higher-ups in Legal fresh out of university. Well, and then there was Danny in IT, but I guess that doesn’t count anymore,” she rattled off and Derek and Laura shared an exasperated smile.

“You’re abusing your power, beloved sister of mine,” Laura said and Cora shook her head wildly, a determined expression on her face.

“They are all excellent at what they do, I just made sure their talent wasn’t overlooked,” she defended herself and Derek sighed.

“What’s a Stiles anyway?” he asked and Cora grinned triumphantly.

“Stiles is exactly who you need right now! Trust me Derek, he’s fun, has just the right amount of sunny personality to counter your constant doom-and-gloom thing you’ve got going on there and he’s going to be cool about hooking up so you don’t have to worry about anyone getting clingy afterwards. I’ll introduce you guys tomorrow, you’ll see, he’ll charm you right out of your socks and onto the sheets,” she promised, laughing when Derek rolled his eyes.

“I hate you both,” he declared solemnly, pretending to be annoyed when Laura marched over and smacked a kiss on his cheek.

“That’s not the tune you will be singing tomorrow night, I bet,” she sing-songed and Derek shook his head.

He loved his sisters deeply, but one of these days he would teach them about privacy.

He also wasn’t all that fond of casual sexual encounters, but as Cora continued outlining this Stiles person’s various skills and benefits Derek, who doubted someone who was apparently as vibrant and quirky as this Stiles would find him appealing at all, figured that his sister’s matchmaking schemes would at least gain him an interesting conversation partner for the night.

Also, she would leave him alone about his pathetically sad love life for at least a year.

It was going to be a win-win situation for everyone.


	2. The Re(con)ception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternatively titled: The Smut Chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha! Surprise!
> 
> Or, rather, real life schedule completely got swapped on me, which means I actually had time for editing today and no chance whatsoever tomorrow OR Thursday, so the new chapter is up today. 
> 
> (btw, if anyone works at a publishing house and actually knows the internal workings of it, I duly apologize for anything that might seem strange. I chose for Hale & Argent to be a publisher because I wanted something where I could genuinely see all of them enjoy their work, not because I am intimately familiar with the process).

“ … and that basically concludes our discussion of your appointments next week. In other news, I still need to administer your monthly shot, one of my best friends lost his job yesterday and is probably going to lose his home because there is just no way in hell his husband can finance a 2 bedroom-Manhattan apartment with only his income, I am really pissed at this company, and I sincerely wish Kate Argent and your uncle would eat shit and die,” Erica said, glaring at Derek as if he was personally at fault for their company policies.

Derek sighed in frustration, partly because he definitely shared Erica’s feelings on Kate and his uncle and partly because he had completely forgotten about getting his shot.

“Can’t that wait until next week Erica? You know that shot always makes me feel tired for half of the day and I can’t really show up to the reception looking like I’m on drugs, you know,” he groaned, slumping back into his seat when Erica huffed.

“ _That’s_ what you took away from all I just said?” she ranted, crossing her arms under her cleavage, which, as a result of casual Friday, was even more revealing than normal.

Derek shrugged.

“It’s the only thing I can actually do something about, so I figured I’d go with that,” he replied, reaching for his coffee cup and taking a long sip when Erica slammed her notepad on his desk.

“You don’t agree with this, do you? Please tell me you don’t agree with this boss, you _have_ to agree that we live in a messed up world if one of the sweetest guys you will ever meet ends up on the streets while almost eight months pregnant just because this company is refusing to emerge from the last millennium!” she exclaimed and Derek sighed.

“Of course it’s unfortunate …” he began, wincing when Erica let out shrill bark of laughter.

“ _Unfortunate_ is exactly the word I’d choose, boss,” she snapped, expression softening immediately when Derek raised his eyebrows in warning.

“Sorry, I’m … I’m sorry Derek, I was out of line, I know you didn’t feel good about having to do this and I shouldn’t be taking this out on you, it’s just … Danny’s my friend, you know? He’s trying to be optimistic about this, but that’s mainly because his husband is really freaking out right now and it just pains me to feel so helpless about something that is so blatantly unfair,” she sighed and Derek nodded, acknowledging her apology.

Both Laura and Peter had repeatedly given him grief for letting Erica talk to him the way she did, but Derek appreciated her honesty, fully aware that he had never quite trusted a personal assistant as much as he did her, despite her occasionally abrasive personality.

“It’s not in my power to change the rules of _Hale & Argent_, Erica,” he said quietly and for a moment something that looked like defiance flared up in the younger woman’s eyes, something that said _Yes you can, Derek fricken **Hale** , you just don’t have the balls to do it_, before she looked back at her notes with a resigned shrug.

“You are running a wee bit on the late side of things regarding your shot as it is, we should really try to get that done today,” she said after a pause and Derek groaned again.

“Must I? I _hate_ how it makes me feel and I really don’t have the time today,” he grumbled, feeling relieved when some of the tension bled out of Erica’s face.

“You’re a big baby, you know that boss, right?” she asked, tone almost fond, and Derek shrugged.

“I own it,” he replied, smiling slightly, and Erica shook her head.

“One of my cousins actually has what you have, twice-removed, from the weird side of the family – not that I’m insinuating anything here – and based on what she’s told me she’s late for her shots all the time and she hardly ever feels bad side-effects from it. Not that I’m encouraging your reckless walk on the wild-side here, but I guess it won’t hurt if you get it done on Monday. You’ve always been good about getting them on time, so one slightly late shot can’t be such a big deal I guess. I would feel better if you got it done today though, I kind of like the apartment this job pays for, you know? Kind of hard to keep that up with you no longer around,” she admonished him and Derek smiled at her, taking the sentiment for what it was.

“I have some stuff I really need to get done before noon, but I’ll swing by your office during lunch-time, ok? If we do it then I should feel like myself again in time for the reception,” he promised and Erica nodded.

“I expect you need me to go pick up your suit from the dry-cleaners?” she asked and Derek winced.

“I had forgotten about that,” he admitted, frowning when Erica began to cackle.

“That’s why it’s already hanging in my office, ready for you to slip into and bedazzle the peasants,” she grinned, briskly walking out the door when Derek growled.

Twenty minutes later all hell broke loose when the temporary replacement for Danny, who had had to surrender his key-card and pack up his belongings the day before, managed to crash parts of the company website, and by the time Derek felt that the situation was halfway under control again, it was way past lunch-break and almost time for the reception.

Mindful of Erica’s judgmental glare he did a quick web-search regarding the potential consequences of one slightly late treatment for his disease, and, after finding that while not encouraged, one or two late dosages wouldn’t have any effect if the condition had been stable for years, Derek decided to simply postpone the shot for Monday, rather than showing up at the reception looking like he was ready to take a nap in the punch-bowl.

It would be fine – after all, he had never experienced any symptoms before.

 

===============

 

Derek had almost forgotten about the guy his sisters were planning to hook him up with when the guy in question literally stumbled into his conversation with Cora like a baby-giraffe just figuring out how to walk.

“Cora, hey! Sorry, oh my god, just got back from my trip to Japan, I’m super jet-lagged and the airline lost my luggage so my phone is totally dead because I, of course, accidentally put my charger in said luggage and so I came here straight from the airport, figured I’d run into Scotty so he could take me home afterwards, and whew, have you tasted the punch yet, it’s awesome, man, I wish I hadn’t also put my Adderall in the luggage, you’d think that was the first time I’d ever flown in my life, rookie mistake, seriously, oh _hi_ , my name is Stiles, you’re big brother Derek, right?”

Derek blinked.

Then he blinked some more.

Cora’s prediction had definitely been correct: the guy – Stiles – was definitely his type, if possibly a little too loud and apparently not very fond of punctuation marks or the need for breathing when he spoke.

Cora burst out laughing.

“Oh man, Derek, your face is just absolutely priceless. Stiles, this is my big brother Derek, Derek, this ray of sunshine is Stiles, who’s going to be very sorry if he didn’t bring me the Japanese Green Tea Kit Kats I requested,” she grinned and Derek held out his hand automatically, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline when Stiles pumped it enthusiastically.

“So glad to finally meet you! I have heard more than one story about you over the years – don’t worry, most of them were good. I think? Sorry, not taking my Adderall really messes with my brain-to-mouth-filter sometimes. I know you’re technically my future boss so I should probably be more respectful right now, but then again, jet-lag, and I also feel like I know you quite well based on Cora’s raving tales of your brotherly feats, so I hope you don’t mind?” he asked, grinning at Derek with a slight blush spreading over his cheeks and Derek smiled back almost helplessly, still feeling slightly flabbergasted by Stiles’ … everything.

“Uhm … I don’t mind?” he said slowly and Cora clapped her hands together with a snort.

“Well, I can see you two are hitting it off, so I’ll just be over there. Have fun boys!” she winked, heading towards Laura across the room.

Derek barely managed to stifle a groan.

In addition to privacy he would also have to teach his sister a thing or two about subtlety.

Stiles was looking at him with a warm smile, his expression open and friendly.

“Not that I want to make things awkward here or anything, but you do know that the she-devil you call your sister has been trying to get the two of us to hook up for a while now, don’t you?” he asked, his tone somewhat calmer now, if by no means less enthusiastic, and Derek blushed.

“She might have mentioned that once or twice in the past 24 hours,” he mumbled, the tips of his ears burning.

Stiles laughed.

“Cora Subtlety Hale, that really should have been her middle name. I’m going to be honest with you Derek, I was interested before I met you based on the stories alone, but now that I know that you are quite possibly the hottest blusher in the world I really want to see if I can get the rest of you to blush just like that. And now that I’ve told you that you’ll know that I’ll be thinking about that for the rest of our conversation, so while I’d love to stay here some more and pretend that I’m not imagining you arching under my touch right now I figured I’d just go ahead and ask directly: you wanna?”

Derek gaped at him, eyes wide open in shock and also, he was almost ashamed to admit, growing excitement.

“Just like that?” he asked disbelievingly and Stiles took a step towards him, their shoulders almost but not quite touching.

“Isn’t that how hook-ups go?” he asked softly and Derek swallowed heavily.

“I imagine that most hook-ups usually start with a more creative pick-up line than ‘you wanna?’” he said, a slight grin spreading over his face as he became more comfortable with Stiles’ proximity.

Stiles chuckled.

“Point taken Derek, point taken. Though I must warn you, I am the king of puns, you might regret it if I try to come up with more … uhm … _creative_ pick-up lines,” he whispered, lips barely touching Derek’s still flaming-red ear as he leaned forward and Derek shuddered.

“I guess I’ll just have to take my chances – though I was hoping you were at least going to buy me a drink first,” he said and Stiles chuckled again, his warm breath gusting over Derek’s neck as he pulled away slowly.

“Shouldn’t _you_ be the one buying me a drink?”

Derek cocked his head, considering.

“How about I’ll buy you a taxi-ride instead,” he finally said and Stiles smiled widely and wiggled his eyebrows.

“I hope that’s not the only ride I’m getting tonight!” he grinned, adding, “Hey, remember you said you wanted to take your chances on my puns!” when Derek raised his eyebrows.

“I’ll retract my statement. Do you want to get out of here?” he asked, a quick look at his watch confirming that he had definitely spent enough time at the reception and Stiles threw his head back when he laughed, his entire body seemingly joining in the movement.

“Who has the bad pick-up lines now?” he asked fondly, his fingers slowly tracing over Derek’s hand.

“This was obviously meant to be,” Derek replied, putting just enough snark in his tone to avoid sounding too corny and Stiles nodded appreciatively.

“I would tell my friends I’m leaving, but they seem to have left early and as long as I don’t have my phone charger I can’t contact them either way, so I guess they’ll just have to wait for tomorrow. I texted them just before my phone died that my phone was about to die and that I was going to be at the reception, so they won’t be too worried,” he mused, tactfully omitting the fact that his roommate and friends were quite used to Stiles not spending the night at home after a party as he placed his hand on the small of Derek’s back and began to steer him towards the door.

“Your place or mine?” he asked when they stood outside and Derek snorted.

“And the clichéd lines continue,” he observed, shaking his head with a smirk when he raised his hand to hail a taxi.

“My place if you don’t mind. I have a conference call with our UK division early tomorrow morning and I’d hate to have to travel through half the city before that,” he said and Stiles nodded, grinning widely.

“Sounds perfect to me. My roommate is probably busy with his girlfriend anyways, so we’ll all benefit from me sexiling myself tonight,” he explained, smiling when Derek held the taxi door open for him.

It had definitely been too long, Derek realized only a minute into the car ride, when he found himself semi-hard from just the – admittedly – breath-taking kisses and little nips that Stiles was placing all over his neck.

Once they had arrived at his building – and after he had given the taxi-driver a more generous tip than the short trip warranted – Derek wasted no time in pushing Stiles against the wall of the elevator, pulling the younger man in by his hips and grinding their pelvises together as he nipped and licked at his mouth.

When the door opened again Derek near-dragged Stiles into his loft and, once they had reached the sofa, pushed him down onto the cushions.

Stiles groaned loudly when Derek sat down on his lap, knees on either side of him as he swallowed the next moan with his mouth and for a while they just kissed, hands tugging at waistbands and slipping under shirts, fingers trailing along each other’s happy trails.

Derek was ready to lose himself in the kiss when Stiles suddenly pulled away, placing a firm hand on his chest, his face flushed.

“I hate to put a quick stop to this, I really, _really_ do, but you know …” he trailed off, fumbling in his back pocket for his wallet and Derek wanted to face-palm himself when he realized why.

“Damn, sorry about that, I completely forgot,” he breathed, pulling out his own wallet and fishing his ID card out with slightly shaking fingers, holding it up for Stiles to see the blue N-C.

Stiles ID-card identified him as a non-carrier as well and Derek nodded, not really having expected anything different.

“With that little tedious formality out of the way and since we’re talking already,” Stiles said, tone sharpening just slightly and causing Derek to blink for a second before Stiles’ expression morphed into one of excitement again, “do you have a preference regarding how we are going to do this?”

“I’d like to ride you. If that’s ok with you?” Derek asked quickly and Stiles blinked.

“That was fast! And assertive. I like it! You’re the boss, Derek, ride away. Well, you know, not the _boss_ -boss, I mean, technically in the future I guess you could … oh god, can you shut me up please? Funny story, I kind of talk too much pretty much all the time, especially when not appropriate? Of course that’s part of my charm, but really, if you could just shut me up right about now that would be … umpf.”

Shutting Stiles up with his mouth turned out to be a brilliant option, Derek discovered, never breaking the kiss as he hooked his arms under Stiles’ legs and lifted him up, using his toned muscles and upper body strength to carry the slimmer man over to the bed.

“That was really hot,” Stiles breathed when they broke for air, hands running over Derek’s upper arms appreciatively and Derek grinned, feeling very satisfied with himself as he began to tug open Stiles’ belt while Stiles fumbled with his shirt buttons.

Despite the fact that his pupils were much larger than just minutes ago, Stiles managed to keep a cocky grin on his face as he propped himself up on his elbows, legs leisurely spread apart and already leaking dick flush against his belly as he watched Derek undress.

A part of Derek wanted to drag this out, wanted to savor the image of Stiles a while longer, but at the same time there were plenty of other images he was getting desperate to see, that of Stiles’ face as he rode him chiefly among them.

When they were both naked Stiles sat up fully, beckoning Derek towards him and pulling him in at the waist, his mouth barely inches away from Derek’s own erection, not touching, but definitely close enough for Derek to feel the gust of warm breath caressing his overheated flesh as Stiles spoke.

“You got stuff here?” he asked, looking up at Derek from under his long eyelashes and Derek swallowed heavily, his “Yeah” coming out more of a strangled moan than an actual answer.

“First drawer on the right,” he gasped, fighting against the urge to let his eyes roll into the back of his head when Stiles came even closer, lips hovering just over the tip of Derek’s penis.

“That’s … god … that’s really good to know. Before we do that, can I taste you a little? Just a little bit?” he breathed and Derek nodded, unable to speak for the moment.

Stiles’ thumbs were drawing gentle circles into the creases of his hipbones, his expression a crossover between lust and fondness as he looked up again.

“Need to hear you say it. I have to hear you Derek,” he said gently and Derek nodded again, wetting his lips with a swipe of his tongue.

“Want you to,” he confirmed and Stiles nodded, winking up at Derek before he straightened his back, reaching up so that his spiky hair was scraping against Derek’s beard as he began to trail his tongue across Derek’s chest, lightly grazing his teeth over one nipple, then the other, before he began to mouth hot kisses down the center of Derek’s stomach, tongue darting out on occasion to lick and taste.

By the time his nose was nuzzling against Derek’s happy-trail and his hands were firmly grabbing his butt, Derek was so close to coming that he had to bite his lip, hands reaching out to pull Stiles’ head back so he could get his attention.

There was almost nothing he wanted more than to have these moist, glistening lips wrapped around his aching dick, nothing except the desperate need to come with Stiles inside of him and he inhaled sharply, gathering his bearings for a second.

“Stop … need to … want to come with you inside me … so close, we have to …”

Stiles smiled, reaching up again and capturing Derek’s lips in a soft kiss, allowing Derek to get a taste of his own salty sweat on the younger man’s lips.

“I’ve got you Derek,” he promised into his mouth, punctuating the statement with another nip at his lower lip before he scooted backwards on the bed, leaning over the edge to open the first drawer on Derek’s right dresser.

“Do you want me to … honestly, I’d really like to watch Derek,” Stiles whispered, opening the bottle of lube and holding it towards Derek, who nodded with a soft gasp.

There was a lot of eye-contact as Derek prepared himself as swiftly as possible, more than he could remember ever having to deal with in a hook-up, but instead of making him feel self-conscious the appreciative, turned-on-beyond-belief expression on Stiles’ face made him feel bolder, more playful as he rocked his hips slightly, fucking himself on his fingers just a little bit and giving Stiles a taste of what was to come.

He couldn’t help the moan that punched out of him when he grazed his prostate and Stiles groaned; one hand firmly wrapped around the base of his dick.

“God, Derek, you’re so … you’re amazing! Are you going to make these sounds for me, too?” he breathed and Derek nodded, stifling a small sob when Stiles rolled the condom down his shaft, once again leaning back to give Derek a full view.

The first stretch burned like a bitch, reminding Derek just how long it had actually been and he bit his lip, pained groan turning into a soft moan when Stiles wrapped a lubed up hand around his still mostly erect dick and gently stroked.

“Easy Derek, I’ve got you,” he repeated again, words coming out more strained than before and Derek felt himself relaxing, sinking down deeper until they were finally flush against each other.

Slowly, Derek began to move his hips experimentally, getting used to the sensation again, while Stiles held on to his thighs in an iron-grip, mouth opened slightly as he watched Derek drag his hands all over his chest, until he had found a position for good leverage, firmly planting his hands on Stiles’ overheated skin as he lifted upward, then went all the way back down, repeating the motion with altering speed, his sharp gasps drowned out by the loud moan coming out of Stiles’ mouth.

“Yes, fuck, _thank you_!” Stiles gasped, causing Derek to lose his momentum as he barked out surprised laughter.

“You’re welcome?” he asked, his smirking mouth falling slack as Stiles angled his pelvis just so that he could hit Derek’s prostate on the next thrust.

“Told you … shouldn’t let me talk,” Stiles gasped out, moaning when Derek rubbed his thumbs just so over his nipples.

Taking the instruction to heart Derek picked up his pace, slamming down onto Stiles harder and Stiles shut up completely, apparently having been reduced to nothing but moans and gasps.

Derek could feel Stiles’ grip on his thighs go impossibly tighter as he came, his back arched and his neck thrown back, presenting Derek with a smooth, pale expanse of freckled skin that he couldn’t resist dragging his tongue over as he leaned down a little, making Stiles almost sob at the slight position change’s added friction on his sensitive penis.

Then Stiles’ hand was on his dick, his long fingers wrapped around the leaking shaft as he began to stroke and Derek leaned back again, bracing himself by putting his hands on Stiles’ thighs.

It didn’t last more than ten strokes before he came as well, come splattering against his own belly and Stiles’ hand.

He was still enjoying the aftershocks of his orgasm, eyes closed and slowly breathing in and out through his mouth when Stiles, possibly either immune to post-coital comatose sleeping urges or still very jetlagged, announced “Man, that was so good for me!” to the room at large, his voice warm and playful.

Smirking, Derek shook his head.

“Was it now?” he asked and Stiles grinned.

“Guys _always_ ask ‘Was it good for you?’ and that’s awkward 99 percent of the time, so if I actually had a good time I just save them the trouble of asking,” he explained, fingers stroking lazy circles over Derek’s hipbones.

“And if you hadn’t?” Derek replied, eyebrows rising when Stiles chuckled.

“Then I just wait until they ask and turn themselves into awkward, compliment-fishing douche bags,” he grinned, tapping against Derek’s thighs gently.

Derek took the hint and slowly lifted himself off of Stiles’ lap, grabbing the tissue box from his nightstand and handing it to Stiles as he went in search of a wet washcloth.

By the time he got back Stiles had already disposed of the condom and he accepted the washcloth gratefully, pointedly glancing towards the mattress.

“We got some lube on there,” he noted and Derek shrugged.

“Not my side of the bed,” he muttered, tone coming off somewhat too casual and Stiles laughed, easing the tension immediately.

“Dude, I get to stay the night? Sweet! I know I’m jetlagged and technically wide-awake, but I think I’m about this close to crashing out, honestly. We’re changing the sheets though, this is yucky!”

“ _Yucky_? How eloquent of you. I’ve got a spare toothbrush in the bathroom cabinet if you need it,” Derek smirked but he got up anyways, stripping the bed quickly and efficiently.

When Stiles returned he smacked a cinnamony kiss on the corner of Derek’s mouth, dropping onto the mattress like he belonged there and stretching out like a cat with a contented sigh.

Derek shook his head with a fond smile.

Cora had definitely been right about Stiles being decidedly relaxed about a hook-up.

“I’ll have to get up by seven if that’s ok with you?” Derek asked after he had pulled the covers over himself and Stiles yawned.

“Dude, no worries, I’ll probably be wide-awake by then anyways,” he assured him, rolling onto his belly and burying his face into the pillow.

Taking it as a sign that they were going to sleep now, Derek closed his eyes, feeling more satisfied and content than he had in a long time.

He had almost fallen asleep when Stiles suddenly poked his upper arm.

“So … it turns out I lied. I’m not sleepy at all.”

Derek grunted.

“Then I did something wrong I guess,” he mumbled, cracking open one eye to look at Stiles critically and Stiles shook his head.

“Nah, that was amazing, I’m just in the mood to talk. It happens a lot, actually, but it’s cool if you want to sleep, I’ll just tell myself about the amazing sex I just had.”

Derek snorted, rolling onto his side so he could face Stiles fully.

“Amazing sex you say? Tell me more,” he teased and Stiles swatted his arm playfully.

“Fishing for compliments Derek, as I said, that’s not very sexy!”

Derek shrugged with a grin, propping his head up on his elbow to prompt Stiles to keep talking.

Over the course of the next hour Derek learned that Stiles had known Scott McCall ever since he had been eight and that the book detailing the guy’s best-friend qualities would be longer than all of Tolkien’s works combined. He learned that Stiles’ father was the Sheriff in a small town north of New York, that he liked the big city but wanted to move back to a smaller town one day, that he had had the most embarrassing of all crushes on Lydia Martin from Accounting for over two years before realizing that a woman who was willing to date Jackson Whittemore had to have something wrong with her somehow (although, despite paying very close attention, he had yet to discover that flaw), and that Cora had once cheated off of him in Econ 101.

To his great surprise, Derek found himself volunteering some information, too. He told Stiles about growing up with sisters who constantly teamed up against him, admitted that his favorite comfort food was creamed spinach, mashed potatoes and eggs sunny side up all mashed together into a disgusting looking glob on his plate, and reminisced about the rather embarrassing crush he had had on his former band teacher.

They talked about favorite colors and favorite music, all the while scooting closer together, and when Derek asked “Favorite hobby?” Stiles simply leaned over and kissed him again, the kiss turning heated fairly quickly.

It was nearly 2 in the morning and Derek really, _really_ needed to get some sleep before the conference call with one of their more obnoxious colleagues overseas, but when Stiles rubbed his palm over his quickly stiffening penis he decided that what he needed even more was the man currently kissing him senseless.

Grinning, Stiles reached over Derek for the condom box and then frowned, holding it upside down and shaking it as if that would make another condom magically appear.

“Fuck,” Derek muttered, feeling Stiles throb against his thigh as the younger man dropped the box down the side of the bed with a groan.

“Uhm … hand job?” Derek asked, trying to hide his almost ridiculous level of disappointment and Stiles bit his lips, thinking for a moment before his eyes suddenly lit up.

“Wallet!” he exclaimed … and proceeded to tumble over the side of the bed in the process of reaching for his pants on the floor.

Derek propped himself up on his elbows, not sure whether it was appropriate to laugh or offer a first aid-kit.

As quickly as he had disappeared from view Stiles reappeared, grinning sheepishly and waving a condom triumphantly.

“I _knew_ this would come in handy one day, I just knew it!” he exclaimed and Derek decided that laughter was definitely ok, though the sounds he produced were not at all mocking but rather fond instead.

“You’re in luck that clairvoyance happens to be one of my secret kinks,” he offered and Stiles, who had climbed back onto the bed and was in the process of rolling the condom onto his erection, paused, looking at Derek with an unreadable expression in his eyes for just a second before he dove forward, capturing Derek’s lips in the most heated kiss they had shared so far.

Stiles was all over him, his arms bracketing Derek and their legs tangled together and with each shift of the younger man’s body Derek could feel the friction of their groins rubbing against each other, heightened by the way Stiles was alternately nipping at his lips and kissing him like Derek was oxygen.

When the need for actual oxygen became too pressing, Stiles broke the kiss, his expression almost dazed as he looked down at Derek, elbows still resting on either side of Derek’s shoulders and his hair tussled as he looked down at him with genuine affection in his amber-brown eyes.

“Hi,” Derek breathed, letting his hands trail over Stiles’ sides and Stiles smiled, reaching up one hand to trace his fingers down Derek’s chin.

“Hi,” he replied, blinking quickly as if he wanted to shake himself out of a stupor.

“You want to know one of _my_ secret kinks?” Stiles whispered and Derek nodded, biting his lips when Stiles reached a hand between them to line himself up at Derek’s entrance, still loosened enough from the first time.

“People whose vocabulary includes fancy, sophisticated French words during sexy times,” he continued, swallowing Derek’s soft laugh with his mouth and entering him at the same time.

Derek had ridden Stiles hard and fast, too keyed up from the long time he had gone without to be calmer about it, but now, with the initial urgency gone, Stiles was clearly intending to take his time, moving steadily but slowly, his eyes never leaving Derek’s.

The older man hooked his legs around Stiles’ waist, drawing him in closer with each controlled thrust and reaching up to kiss at Stiles’ chin, his mouth, his neck, everywhere he could reach.

Stiles did the same, slowing down almost unbearably so and catching Derek’s lips in a kiss every time he bottomed out, teeth gently tugging at Derek’s lower lip whenever he pulled away again.

Stiles sped up his tempo eventually, clearly needing just a little more to push him over the edge and when he came he let out a loud moan, his eyes fluttering shut and his arms trembling as he tried to keep from having Derek support all his weight.

Derek pressed their chests together, allowing Stiles to catch his breath again while he stroked his back and this was … intimate.

Too intimate, maybe, but Derek didn’t care … couldn’t; not when he hadn’t felt so cared for and appreciated in years.

His own erection was trapped between their stomachs and it wasn’t until he shifted his hips slightly, trying to get more friction, that Stiles seemed to snap out of his post-orgasmic haze, a soft smile on his lips as he lifted his head from where he had been nuzzling the crook of Derek’s neck.

“You’re still hard,” he observed, pushing himself up gingerly and pulling out slowly.

He sat back on his haunches and tapped against Derek’s thighs, indicating for the older man to spread them further and Derek did, throwing his arm across his face when Stiles wrapped up his erection in one fist and leaned down to lick, suck, and nip along the sensitive skin on the inside of his upper legs.

Derek wanted to ask Stiles to wrap his lips around his length, take him all the way inside and allow him to thrust upward, but he couldn’t, not when they had been lucky there had even been a second condom in the vicinity in the first place.

He would definitely invest in some new ones on his way to work on Monday, that was for sure, Derek decided, right before his thought capacity went out the window as Stiles, who had apparently had the same thought, bent down further and nuzzled at his balls, gently sucking them into his mouth while his hand continued stroking.

It was almost but not quite enough and Derek pushed himself up a bit, both to get a better view of the way Stiles’ head kept moving between his legs and to reach out one of his arms to rake his fingers through the younger man’s hair, desperate for more contact.

Stiles let go of his balls with a soft pop, straightening up a little and allowing Derek to stroke trembling fingers down the man’s cheek.

He was still stroking Derek with his right hand but the left, which had previously gripped Derek’s thigh, now trailed over the ridge of his hip before it came to rest on his abdomen, Stiles’ long fingers scratching along the soft hair on his lower belly.

Derek pressed up into the touch, letting out a moan that, had he not been so turned on, he would have probably felt self-conscious about and Stiles took a sharp breath, rhythm of his hand faltering just a little as he turned his head towards Derek’s palm pressed against his cheek and placing a soft kiss against Derek’s pulse point.

The orgasm took Derek by surprise, both because of its suddenness and its intensity and he dropped back against the mattress panting, hand resting on his twitching, come-coated abdomen.

For a moment there was an almost stunned silence, then Stiles went into action, climbing off the bed to presumably get rid of the condom.

Derek’s eyes were still closed when the younger man returned, a washcloth trailing across his abdomen as Stiles cleaned him and then placed a light kiss against the damp skin.

It was still too intimate and Stiles seemed to be feeling it, too, if the pregnant silence was any indication when the normally chatty man dropped the washcloth onto the floor and stretched out next to Derek, hesitating for the briefest of moments before he draped an arm across Derek’s waist and pulled him closer, spooning him from behind.

It was … nice.

Incredibly nice, and not at all what Derek had been expecting when he had agreed to take Stiles home.

He hadn’t realized just how touch-starved he had obviously been for the past two years, despite the constant cuddles his overbearing sisters bestowed upon him on at least a weekly basis.

The first time had fulfilled all of his expectations for the night and more: a fun, passionate fuck, nothing more, nothing less, though decidedly more pleasant than former hookups simply because of Stiles’ genuine personality.

That second time, however, Stiles had touched him almost reverently, as if there was nothing more important in the world than Derek and his happiness and yes, he was being incredibly sappy and yes, he was riding on an endorphin high right now, but the feeling in his chest told him there was the potential for _more_ here.

Smiling softly, Derek fell asleep, his hand resting on Stiles’ large hand, warm and firm against his belly.

He never noticed the tiny, barely there trickle of semen drying on the inside of his thigh, nor the expiration date on the box of condoms that lay forgotten under the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Public Service Announcement: I know a lot of guys who keep their condoms in their wallets, so it seems to be a common misconception that that's a super-awesome place to put them 'just in case', but, as Stiles will eventually come to find out, it's really not a super-awesome place at all. 
> 
> That being said, if anyone has OOC-Concerns regarding Stiles' lack of knowledge about that I would like to add that I felt like they should both be potentially responsible for what's about to happen, since throughout the course of the story they'll equally make stupid, unreflected, and - if you asked Erica, Cora, or literally anyone who's watching the drama unfold - borderline idiotic decisions. And considering that Stiles, prior to the beginning of this story, has had a much more active sex-life than Derek, I felt he wouldn't have had expired condoms at hand. He would, however, have never used the one in his wallet (that I feel he might have put in there because he saw Jackson Whittemore doing it once and he figured maybe that was cool enough to sway Lydia) because he'd either take people to his place where he'd be stocked or they would take him to their place, where they would be stocked. 
> 
> In any case, let's call it necessary OOC-ness to advance the plot ;). 
> 
>  
> 
> Next Update will happen by Sunday 04/12.
> 
> Next Chapter Title: "Confrontations"  
> Next Chapter Summary: Stiles' afterglow is completely ruined by Danny's devastating news, leading him to engage in a mutual burning-bridges party with Derek, who then almost makes a snap-decision that'll have far-reaching consequences nevertheless.


	3. Confrontations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS for:  
> \- Strong language (partly misogynist, as the anti-carrier discourse in this fictional society both resembles homophobia and misogyny) as I tried to let them argue realistically, so the f-word comes up a bit. I could have done it without, certainly, but I felt it would be more realistic given the underlying anger.  
> \- Bad coping mechanisms (alcohol)  
> \- This is all taking place in an imperfect society, so if you are a lawyer and recognize stuff that doesn't make sense when I have the characters talk about legal issues, please remember that this is very much set in an AU :).

Stiles was in an exceptionally good mood as he bounded up the stairs to his and Scott’s apartment, not surprised in the least that their landlord still hadn’t fixed the broken elevator during his two week trip to Japan.

He had slept in until 8 AM and when he had woken up Derek had already been sitting at his kitchen counter, deep in conversation with their colleagues overseas.

He had been wearing a shirt, his suit jacket, and only his boxer briefs, since the lower part of his body was clearly hidden from view and Stiles had dressed as quietly as possible, tiptoeing into the kitchen and pouring himself a mug of the coffee Derek had quickly pointed to upon seeing him, a fond expression on his face.

He had ended the call shortly after, swinging around on the barstool to wish Stiles a good morning, only to be greeted by his mouth.

Derek hadn’t seemed to mind the slightly coffee-bitter taste and Stiles had bitten Derek’s lower lip playfully while his hands had quickly opened the buttons on Derek’s dress-shirt.

Derek had braced his elbows on the counter behind him and Stiles had trailed his tongue down the other man’s chest, nipping and kissing until he had reached the waistband of his boxers, where he had taken his sweet time to mouth at Derek’s quickly growing erection through his briefs.

Mindful of the no-condom situation, Stiles had straightened up when Derek’s noises had become desperate, fastening his mouth to the tendons on his neck and sucking and nipping with abandon while he had jerked the slightly older man off quickly.

Derek had wanted to return the favor but Stiles had regretfully declined, aware that he really needed to let his friends know he wasn’t dead yet and he had left Derek’s loft soon after, but not before giving Derek his number and telling him to shoot him a text so he could have his once his phone had finally been recharged – just in case.

The look in Derek’s eyes had led Stiles to believe that this hypothetical case would arise sooner rather than later and he didn’t feel anything but excitement over the prospect of getting to know Derek better.

He had always shied away from workplace romances, especially if one of the parties was in a higher position – _significantly_ higher, in this case – but his instincts were telling him that Derek could be worth the risk.

It wasn’t like he was planning to get married to the man tomorrow, but it had been a long time since Stiles had even felt the desire to see if a casual one-night stand could turn into something more and that thought was both a bit terrifying and exciting to him.

His good mood increased exponentially when he let himself into their apartment and caught sight of his freshly delivered luggage, then died a pitiful death when he marched into the living room and was greeted by a bunch of depressed faces and a devastated Danny.

“Whoa … did something happen, did someone die?” he burst out without thinking and Danny chuckled humorlessly.

“Nah. Unless you count the death of my career on Thursday as ‘someone’,” he said dryly, going for brave but his voice breaking in-between and his husband Ethan tightened the hold he had on Danny’s shoulders, his expression fatigued with worry.

“Gosh darn it!” Stiles sighed loudly, remembering Danny’s increasing anxiety over the past couple of weeks with painful clarity now.

His former lover – it had been a long time ago; passionate but brief, as they had quickly come to the realization that they worked much better as friends – had started showing for real just before the holiday break and had been worried sick about the pregnancy being revealed at last, berating himself daily for making the decision to hide it in the first place.

Scott had been hopeful that _Hale & Argent _might make an exception just this once, given the immense value of Danny’s work for the company and the fact that his direct supervisor, Bobby Finstock, was extremely vocal in his carrier-support, that maybe, once Danny’s condition was revealed, they would be able to protect him.

Apparently that had not been the case.

“They seriously fired you? This is _bullshit_!” he gasped and Danny nodded, looking resigned.

“It’s not like I wasn’t expecting this somehow, but I thought they would give me notice, at least. Instead I was terminated immediately and there is even talk about me having to pay back my last salaries because of, how did they put it, ‘willful fraud’ or something.”

“Surely that can’t be legal! Allison, this is ridiculous!” Scott exclaimed, turning towards his on and-off girlfriend with a pleading expression.

Allison smiled grimly.

“He violated the contract, it says in there that upon violation the company may take the measures it sees fit. What kind of measures is not specified,” she explained and Stiles gaped at her.

Lydia snorted, her eyes shining with fury.

“It’s not like the company needs the money back or anything, this is just happening out of spite! That being said, however,” she trailed off, turning towards Danny and Ethan with a miserable expression.

“I crunched the numbers, like you asked me to, but I’m afraid my initial assessment is correct. Even if you don’t have to pay back eight months worth of salary, with only Ethan’s income there is no way you can stay in your place, especially not with all the medical expenses you are looking at in the very near future with no health care coverage,” she said softly and Ethan balled his fists in helpless anger, while Danny closed his eyes briefly.

“I was afraid of that,” he murmured, his eyes dull as he looked at the floor and on a whim Stiles scrambled forward, kneeling down in front of Danny on the couch and grasping his fidgeting hands, holding them tightly.

“Are you stupid? You and Ethan are going to move in with us, of course! Problem solved … well, at least for the moment, and once you get a new job with a company that isn’t as shitty as _H & A_ you and Ethan can take your time finding a place that has plenty of room for little Ethaniel!” he exclaimed, smiling proudly when Scott immediately yelled, “Yes! Absolutely!” never having worried in the least that his best friend would veto the plan.

“We’ve got that spare bedroom anyways ever since Isaac moved out. It was the biggest room to begin with, so it’ll be perfect for the two of you plus Ethaniel!”

“We’re still not calling him that,” Danny mumbled softly, some of the tension draining out of his face as he looked at his friends.

Ethan cleared his throat, sounding both resigned and thankful when he spoke.

“This is a wonderful offer and under normal circumstances we wouldn’t want to be a bother, but I guess we all know that we aren’t in a position to say no. So thank you, from the bottom of my heart. It means a lot,” he said, squeezing Danny’s hand tightly.

“Seriously man, it’s no big deal! I love kids, Scotty here is a life-sized teddy bear, and it’ll be great to have you guys here! And you don’t have to feel pressured to find something right away, either, stay until you’re really in a position to leave, we won’t mind at all!”

“You’re saying that now, just wait until the baby screams us all awake multiple times a night,” Danny said softly and Stiles shrugged.

“Isaac used to scream us awake multiple times a night, too, the man’s got the stamina of a horse and the lung capacity of a lion. At least this time it will be cute, innocent baby-screaming and not dirty talk that would put a sailor to shame,” he grinned, ducking out of the way when their curly-haired former roommate tossed a pillow at him with an exasperated, “Thank _god_ I moved out!”

“With that crisis being averted,” Erica said, twirling her hair around her finger in deep thought, “I’m going to speak to Derek on Monday. He’s a bit higher up the food-chain than Cora and maybe he can do something about the salary-penalty,” she said and Ethan snorted.

“It’s the least he can do, really, when I picked my husband up right after he got the ax from Derek he was in tears! All of this could have been handled with more dignity and compassion than what Danny got!” he ranted, and Stiles’ head whipped towards him, his eyebrows rising towards his hairline.

“Hold on, _Derek_? Derek Hale? What does Derek have to do with this, isn’t he in another department?” he asked and Erica, who frequently talked to Cora and was usually in on her schemes, let out a decidedly pained sound, the look on her face indicating that she suddenly had a very clear idea where Stiles had spent the night.

“Derek’s the one who had to fire him, since Finstock just plainly refused. Derek’s not good about using his words sometimes and he really didn’t want to have to do it and I guess it came out a bit … harsher than he intended,” she explained, throwing a dark look towards Ethan when he slapped his hands on his thighs angrily.

“You might as well stop making excuses for your asshole of a boss! As you said, he’s higher up in the food chain than Cora, if he had put his foot down about this Danny might have been able to keep his job! Or he could have started setting things in motion that could change their crazy carrier-phobic regulations in the first place, if he’s supposedly _soooo_ in favor of carrier-rights!”

Erica spluttered, angry red splotches appearing on her face.

“I never said he’s in favor, I said he wasn’t happy about firing Danny because he doesn’t have strong feelings one way or the other! And besides, how was he supposed to do something about this, hmm? Even if he’d tried, he still would have had to push it past Kate fucking Argent _and_ his deranged uncle and _that_ would never have happened, especially not coming from Derek!”

“Derek’s carrier-phobic?” Stiles asked, his eyes wide and his face growing pale as he looked at Erica, who huffed loudly in frustration.

“No! You weren’t listening! He doesn’t _care_ , but that doesn’t make him phobic! I mean … I don’t _think_ he is, it just doesn’t seem like him at all!”

“It doesn’t make him a great guy, either!” Stiles said sharply, more color draining out of his face as he looked at Danny.

“Holy shit! Danny, oh my god, I swear, if I had known he had sacked you on Thursday I would have never … I didn’t know!”

Danny shook his head, a sad but somewhat amused smile on his face.

“It’s ok, I know Cora’s been trying to find a reason for the two of you to conveniently be in the same room together for months now. You couldn’t have known and I know you wouldn’t have if you had, so I’m not angry at you, I promise.”

“It’s not going to happen again, I can assure you!” Stiles snapped, already mentally composing the angry text he planned to fire off at Cora once he had finally charged his phone again.

“Stiles …” Erica winced, shaking her head at his furious expression.

“Don’t do anything drastic, ok? Derek didn’t do this because it was his deepest desire to hurt Danny; he’s not the enemy here. If you really must, talk to him on Monday, ok?”

“Not thinking about _Derek_ right now, just planning out Cora’s brutal demise!” Stiles said darkly and this time Lydia sighed loudly.

“Admittedly not her smartest move to set the two of you up a day after she had to force Derek to tell Danny he got fired, but Cora’s definitely not carrier-phobic, which I know for a fact, so don’t be an ass to her, ok?” she pleaded and Stiles threw his hands up in frustration, pointing towards Danny and Ethan.

“We’ve spent the past ten minutes talking about the Hales, how to best protect their feelings, and their poor woe-is-me lives, meanwhile, Danny lost everything! We should be coming up with more ideas to help Danny!” he barked, lowering his arm slowly when Danny rested his hands on his tiny, yet noticeable belly.

“I haven’t lost _everything_ Stiles, but I appreciate the sentiment,” he said softly, leaning his head to the side when Ethan buried his face in the crook of his neck with a suspiciously wet sigh, his arms wrapping around his husband’s middle protectively.

“That being said, if you guys could help us move our stuff as soon as possible that would be great. We already looked at storage prices and we know where we would be putting most of our furniture for the time being. We also talked to our landlord last night and she was very accommodating. She obviously can’t let us stay there without being able to afford rent, but she said that if we move out within the week she’d only charge us a quarter of this months’ rent. The location is amazing, so it’ll probably take her not even half a day to find new renters, which was a motivating factor in her generous offer, I guess. Then again, she’s pro-carrier rights, so she’s probably also feeling bad for us,” Danny continued and Body cleared his throat, looking at Jackson, Isaac, Scott, and Stiles questioningly.

“I don’t have plans for Sunday and my brother’s in town with his van, so we could use the car to haul the stuff from one place to the other tomorrow. Between the five of us plus Ethan we should be able to get it done in a day,” he said, nodding at Erica when his girlfriend clapped her hands.

“Lydia, Allison, and I can go over today and pack boxes so you guys can move them tomorrow! I’d ask Cora, but that might be too awkward for the moment. Danny, you feeling up for directing us where to put what for the rest of the day?” she asked and Danny nodded with a smile, rolling his eyes a little as he stood up.

“I _can_ help, you know. I might be showing now but I can still move around quite easily,” he chided her, rolling his eyes again fondly when Stiles draped one arm around his friend’s shoulders and patted his small belly with his free hand.

“Nope Danny-Boy, I’m going to go over and help pack boxes, too, because I really need to take my mind of _things_ , if you know what I mean, so I’m going to add guy-power to this endeavor. _You_ , meanwhile, are going to sit down in that fancy-ass designer armchair of yours with a bucket of fried chicken dipped in apple-caramel sauce or whatever your heart desires and if you move one muscle I’ll totally spank you. I mean it, too, and, as you very well know from that one, unfortunate-yet-illuminating night we don’t speak of, my spanking skills are about as adequate as E. L. James’ depictions of a consensual BDSM relationship, so you better stay put and let us do the work, alright?”

Danny nodded with a smirk, though whether that was because of Stiles’ ideas of pregnancy-cravings or the memory of the night of the epic spanking-failure was somewhat hard to tell.

As Boyd called his brother to secure the van, the girls gathered their belongings, and Scott enlisted a grumpy Jackson and exasperated Isaac’s help to clean the guest room and get everything ready for their new temporary roommates, Stiles pulled Erica aside with a grim expression, his tone serious.

“Just so you know, I am definitely going to pay a couple of Hales a visit on Monday and you better not stop me when I do,” he announced and Erica nodded, sounding serious as well when she responded, “I know you will, just make sure you aren’t unnecessarily cruel, ok? You can be kind of an ass sometimes and neither of them really deserve it … it’s a sucky situation for everyone.”

Stiles huffed.

“For some more than others,” he replied, not breaking eye contact when Erica looked at him in exasperation.

It wasn’t until later that Saturday, when his jet-lag forced him to crash on Danny and Ethan’s couch, having decided that since he was going to help with moving stuff tomorrow it made no sense for him to drag his near-comatose self back to his own place, that he realized he had never answered the text Derek had sent him that morning.

As he stared at the words, a rather casual message teasing him about his favorite super-hero – they had debated the merits of Superman vs. Batman for quite a while at some point during the night – Stiles sighed, rubbing his knuckles over his eyes tiredly.

He was too upset at the man to answer and although part of him knew that he was probably being unfair, judging him before he knew all the facts, he couldn’t really help feeling that, despite his enthusiasm that morning, he wasn’t quite that sure that he wanted to get to know Derek better anymore.

 

================

 

Derek had been in a great mood for all of Saturday, taking his sisters out for lunch, enduring their gloating with a good-natured shrug, spending most of the evening on the couch with a good book, and then, later, after he had already gone to bed, a most satisfactory jerk-off session to the memory of last night.

By Sunday mid-morning his good mood had begun to dampen and by the time Sunday evening came around he was positively moping.

It wasn’t that he had expected Stiles to call or anything, not really, that wasn’t how hook-ups went, after all, but when Stiles had left his loft yesterday morning the promise of a something more had definitely been hanging in the air.

Granted, Derek didn’t do hook-ups usually and couldn’t be certain that he wasn’t reading too much into this, but the look in Stiles’ eyes had been genuinely interested, even fond, and Derek didn’t think the man was a good enough actor to fake that.

Therefore, the fact that Stiles hadn’t responded to the text at all meant that – well, Derek didn’t quite know what it meant.

Maybe Stiles had met the love of his life on the subway, maybe he had just succumbed to his jetlag, maybe he was lying dead in a ditch somewhere, unable to … Derek barely resisted banging his head against the wall, chastising himself for being so ridiculous.

Stiles wasn’t lying dead in a ditch somewhere, Stiles hooked up all the time, it probably hadn’t been anything special for him.

Hell, maybe he looked at all the guys he slept with that way, he certainly seemed like being open and affectionate came much easier to him than it did to Derek.

Frustrated, Derek resorted to something he rarely did and poured himself a shot of whisky, filthy expensive and Peter’s idea of a creative birthday gift – granted, it had been semi-creative when Derek had turned 21, but he had received the same bottle for eight years since and had long since decided that Peter must have been anxiously awaiting his legal drinking age so he wouldn’t have to put effort into finding a gift anymore.

Knocking back the shot quickly Derek grimaced, the burn of it not as pleasant as he had hoped.

He slept badly that night, falling in and out of sleep with no real reason for his restlessness and when he arrived at work that morning he wondered if Erica could literally see the thunderclouds hanging over his head.

Whatever she saw she definitely didn’t like, her expression unhappy and nervous as she went over his schedule for the day and handed him papers to sign, her eyes constantly flicking towards the door as if she was expecting someone.

She had just administered his monthly shot – reminding him again that she wasn’t going to be held accountable for any side-effects the late dosage might cause – when Stiles marched through the open door, the angry expression on his face so unlike the man who had kissed Derek breathless two nights ago that it made his heart clench in surprise.

“Good morning, a word?” Stiles asked, his voice cold and clipped and his expression indicating that he was a man steeling himself for the worst.

Derek stared at him, genuinely baffled and unsure how he was supposed to react.

He couldn’t remember doing anything during their time together that had warranted such a reaction and unless Stiles was furious at him because of something job-related Derek had no idea what was going on, though that in itself made no sense either, since Derek had nothing to do at all with the Editing Department.

Erica gathered the shot-kit hastily, her face grim as she marched past Stiles, muttering something to him under her breath that Derek didn’t quite understand.

After she had closed the door behind her Derek wordlessly gestured to the seat in front of his desk, hoping that sitting down might take the wind out of Stiles’ sails somehow.

Stiles looked like it was physically painful for him to sit.

“So, _Derek_ ,” he began, in a tone that made Derek’s skin crawl.

“I had a rather interesting weekend. And by interesting I mean stressful and heartbreaking. You see; a good friend of mine was fired on Thursday, for reasons that are so discriminatory and hateful that it just makes my brain explode! And that’s bad enough, right, but get _this_ , because there’s no way he and his husband could continue to afford their Manhattan downtown apartment with only one salary they basically became homeless overnight, well, they would have been, if my best friend Scott and I hadn’t had an extra bedroom. So I spent all day Saturday packing boxes and half of Sunday moving part of these boxes into storage and the other into our free bedroom – so much for the stressful part. The _heartbreaking_ parts were the ones where I spent the other half of Sunday re-painting one of the rooms in my friend’s old Manhattan apartment, a room that he and his husband had _just_ gotten done, mind you, because you can’t very well expect landlords to rent out apartments that have personalized nurseries, and then, after I finally came back home Sunday night, reeking of paint and looking like a Dalmatian, I had to walk past our guest bedroom and watch a person that I care deeply for stare at a perfect little crib – that used to be in a perfect nursery and is now crammed between two mismatched dressers in a dark corner – like his heart was breaking! That was my weekend Derek. Do you want to take a wild guess what my friend’s name is and to whom I owe the pleasure of seeing people I love suffer like that?”

Derek’s eyes were wide as Stiles finished ranting, his mind once again flashing back to the expression on Danny Mahealani’s face when he had told him he had been fired, effective immediately, as well as Erica’s comment the next day that Mahealani and his husband were probably going to lose their apartment.

“I … fuck,” he said simply and Stiles barked a sharp laugh, the sound rather unpleasant to Derek’s ears.

“Fuck is right. The question is, what do you think is fucked up right now? That your hook-up inconveniently turned out to be one of the closest friends of the guy you fired with no guilt, remorse or – from what I heard – any sense of tact and dignity? That you had sex with someone who is fiercely protective of carrier rights? Or is it because you agree with me that the situation is beyond fucked up and that this company is a shit-hole and way behind the times with its horrendously hateful carrier-discrimination rulebook that seems to be stuck up the ass of every single person whose word carries any kind of weight around here?”

Derek blinked rapidly.

He had no idea what to say to Stiles, how to make what had happened better. There was nothing he could do about it now, there hadn’t been anything he could have done before, not really, Peter and Kate would have never allowed him to keep Danny employed at _Hale_ & _Argent_ , not after he had hidden his condition for more than eight months, thus acknowledging that he had been well aware of the contract breach.

He also had no intention of slamming his own family’s company to someone whom he had had an – admittedly fantastic – one-night stand with and barely knew.

“He broke his contract, there was nothing I could have done,” he finally said, keeping his expression carefully blank and hoping that Stiles would respond to it like a rational adult.

Stiles’ expression instantly resembled a cloud with lightening and thunder and Derek tensed when the younger man jumped out of his seat, pacing up and down and thrusting his fists into thin air as he gesticulated wildly.

“Nothing you could have done my _ass_! You and your sisters are basically next in line to lead this company, your voice carries weight around here; you can’t tell me it doesn’t because that’s bullshit! Maybe not Cora, _maybe_ , though I’m not convinced of that either, but you are the head of a department, precisely, you’re semi-in charge of Danny’s department! You know as well as I do he was the best at what he did around here and if you had argued that way then maybe we could have reached a conclusion that wouldn’t have left him unemployed and _homeless_ within the span of two days!”

Derek stood up as well, gaping at him briefly before his expression hardened.

“You realize you are _way_ out of line right now, don’t you?” he asked, voice getting a bit louder and Stiles let out an aggressive snort, whirling around to face him.

“Well _excuse me_ for taking this a teensy tiny bit personal! I mean hey, after all I only hooked up with the person who caused my former lover and now one of my dearest friends a fuck-ton of pain basically the day after it happened, with no knowledge whatsoever! Who would be upset about that, _right_? That’s what close friends do all the time: hook up with the people that hurt their loved ones! Totally normal, absolutely no excuse to be angry!”

He took a deep breath and then started yelling again, his face red with exertion.

“I’ve had it up to here with this company’s carrier-phobic assholery! Danny has been living in fear for months, the two carriers I work with are sick with nerves every time they so much as feel queasy because it _might_ just be morning-sickness and that would mean their life is over! Carrier rights groups have come so far these past couple of years and still the majority of society does everything in their power to make the life of a carrier one of fear, devastation, and guilt! And for what? Carriers are not different from Non-Carriers, _hell_ , Danny has much better leadership skills than me and I’m completely uterus-free, my parents had that double-checked! All that ‘carriers will ruin the working atmosphere at a company’-talk is _bullshit_ , the only ones who ruin it are the carrier-phobes who harass them and the superiors who turn a blind eye to the harassment!”

He took another gulping breath, leaning forward on Derek’s desk and slamming his hands on the surface.

“Did you know that when Danny first started working here some asshole from the Creative Department went out of his way to be nasty to him whenever Danny had to go fix something for him? I don’t even know how Dahler knew about Danny’s carrier-status, all I know is that he treated him like he was garbage, purposefully messed up his computer and then reported Danny to Finstock for being incompetent! Of course the joke was on him because Finstock wasn’t having that shit, but you know what happened in response to the bullying?!”

Derek closed his eyes briefly, his shoulders slumping in resignation.

He remembered the episode well, the day that Finstock had stormed into the Creative Department and yelled “We can’t be consumed by our petty differences anymore! We will be united in our common interests! Perhaps it’s fate that today is the Fourth of July, and you will once again be fighting for our freedom … not from tyranny, oppression, or persecution … but from _bullying at the job place_!” at Dahler.

It had caused quite a scene – and not only because it had been the middle of February and therefore not really the time for an _Independence Day_ speech – and Dahler had immediately reported Finstock to HR for harassment.

In the end Finstock had gotten a warning and Dahler had gotten away with it, his word standing against Danny’s, though he had stopped with the harassment, and Derek remembered Peter’s, “Well, carriers can get a bit hysterical, I’m sure it was all in good fun,” like it had been yesterday.

Stiles snorted once more, clearly reading Derek’s expression correctly.

“Yep, exactly, nothing was done about it, in the end the only person who dared to voice criticism got a warning and the asshole got away! And that’s what this company is all about! That you wouldn’t even lift a finger to do anything to stop it is just ... it’s pathetic, Derek!”

His eyes narrowed at Derek, once again interrupting him before he had even opened his mouth to speak.

“It could have been my kid, you know? I dated Danny for a bit, it could have been the father of _my child_ who would have been kicked out on the streets basically! Can you even imagine how that makes me feel? Tell me you wouldn’t be furious as well!”

It was a painful insight but Derek suddenly realized that he had no chance to make this right, that the situation had been unsalvageable before Stiles had even started yelling at him.

Derek had seen Peter in his weakest moments, he could recognize a man with a vendetta when he saw him, and Stiles, maybe because of his relationship with Danny, maybe because of other reasons that he wasn’t disclosing, was taking this deeply personally, enough so that short of him giving Danny his job back Derek was certain that whatever they had had between them was over.

Part of him had been expecting it since the night before, but having it confirmed hurt more than he would have expected, once again reminding him why he didn’t usually do hook-ups in the first place.

Derek couldn’t do it; not getting attached to people he was intimate with simply wasn’t how he worked. It was a weakness, a weakness that had allowed Kate Argent to play kick-ball with his emotions for months and use him in the most hurtful way before he had finally had the courage to break up with her, and it was coming back to kick him where it hurt right now.

Derek closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying and failing to quell his increasing anger.

He had never appreciated being screamed at – couldn’t imagine that anyone did, really – and with the situation being what it was he most definitely had enough.

“What are you still doing here then?!”

It came out sharp and cold and Stiles stilled, almost as if he had forgotten that he was screaming at an actual living person and not a mute statue.

“I … _what_?” he exclaimed, waving his hands as if he was wondering how Derek could have possibly managed to ignore everything he had said before.

“Well, _Stiles_ , I’ve been hearing a lot of abuse hurled at my parent’s company in the past couple of minutes – in an absolutely disrespectful and inappropriate tone by the way – and that is going to stop right now or there’ll be consequences!”

“ _Excuse me_?!” Stiles exploded but Derek held up his hand, truly fed up now.

“No! You’ve had your say, now you will let me have mine! You’ve marched in here, into the office of someone who is your superior, and you’ve yelled at me without even giving me the slightest chance to explain! Well, guess what, I don’t owe you an explanation, especially not after this! We have our rules here for a reason and if you don’t like them then please, by all means, there is the door, the city is full of publishing houses, I’m sure you’ll find an employer who’s more to your liking! After all, we wouldn’t want you to be a _hypocrite_ for working here, right? Can’t have the death of your integrity on our collective conscience after all!”

Stiles looked like he wanted to retort angrily but Derek stood up, slamming his fists on his desk himself, putting him on eye-level with Stiles.

“You might have fucked me this weekend but if you think that gives you the right to screw around with me and treat me like I’m your little bitch you are _sorely_ mistaken! I don’t give a fuck what you think about me on your own time but here, at this office, I demand respect! I’ll be willing to let this slide one time, I _am_ sympathetic to your personal situation, but make no mistake, you ever disrespect me like that again and that’ll be your last day at this company!”

Stiles’ agitated hands stopped mid-air, his eyes widening to a point that Derek would have not imagined to be possible as he stared at Derek.

“Screw with you? Little _bitch_? You think I am showing you disrespect because _I_ was the one who was on _top_? Holy hell Derek I don’t even … _fuck_!” he whispered, dragging his hands through his hair and barking the most unattractive laugh Derek had ever heard.

He closed his eyes briefly, all the muscles in his jaw clenching, and when he opened his eyes again his gaze was deeply hurt.

“I really thought you weren’t like them! Like your carrier-phobic uncle and sister who seem to still live in the last century! But if you think that … no, you know what, I’m not even going to repeat it, it’s too disrespectful, not only to carriers but to all women everywhere!”

He took a deep breath, fingers clenching and unclenching, his tone growing even colder when he simply said, “We’re done.”

“Fine,” Derek replied just as coldly, willing his ears to stop burning in shame as Stiles turned on his heels and left the office, slamming the door shut behind him for emphasis.

Derek took a deep breath, placing his palms flat on the desk to brace himself and he wasn’t surprised to find that he was shaking.

Stiles had marched into his office without warning and the argument had escalated so quickly that he felt like he had been run over by a truck, pain included.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he whispered, not even sure anymore whether the sentiment was for Stiles and the premature and brutal demise of what Derek had spent the last two days thinking could actually be _something_ , or whether he was appalled at himself and the less than professional way he had handled the situation.

It was one thing for Erica to boss him around like she owned the place, but if word got out to Peter how Derek had failed to act like the superior he was because he had been taken aback by the unexpected aggression of a hook-up then … well, it wouldn’t be pretty, that much was for sure, especially since – for some reason he wasn’t disclosing – Peter had never seemed very confident in Derek’s abilities to actually lead, despite the fact that he had been promoted a couple of years earlier.

He was so occupied with his thoughts that he almost missed the hesitant knock on the door and when Erica cleared her throat he jerked, startled at her sudden arrival.

“So … I heard all of that. Pretty sure the entire floor heard it, actually,” she began, looking truly and utterly exasperated.

“Don’t. Just … don’t,” Derek replied, letting himself fall back into his chair and knocking the back of his head against the chair’s headrest.

Erica, as usual, seemed to be completely oblivious to his objections.

“There was a lot of screaming and not a lot of talking,” she continued, scratching her head with one long, well-manicured finger.

“In fact, I heard some pretty antiquated BS about gender and power dynamics come out of your mouth boss, and that just plain doesn’t make sense at all, because I know you’re not like that, I know that you believe in equality within a relationship,” she mused, fixing him with a stern glare now.

“Stiles could be really good for you if you just gave him a chance, so honestly, will the wisdom of letting an amazing guy think you’re a horribly carrier-phobic, sexist asshole reveal itself to me if I just squint hard enough?”

“Erica … do _not_ push me on this! I mean it!” Derek snapped loudly in response and Erica, more or less used to getting away with murder as far as her boss was concerned, flinched, her expression startled.

“ _Fine_!” she snapped back, using the same cold tone Derek had used on Stiles earlier.

When the door slammed shut behind her Derek had to stifle a serious urge to scream out his frustration … and maybe smash something against the wall for good measure.

He half-wondered if Laura or Peter were next in line for a verbal smack-down; maybe even Kate, who, as far as he was concerned, would have almost been preferable, to add at least one person he actually didn’t give a damn about to the list of people who currently thought he was a terrible excuse of a human being.

His arm throbbed, the skin around the needle mark looking strangely inflamed, noticeable even under the thin band-aid and he resisted the urge to peel it off, choosing instead to wrap his fingers around the muscle as best as he could, hoping that the pressure would help.

When Erica yanked open his door again five minutes later Derek’s head was throbbing and he was seriously considering just calling it a day and going home, where he planned to hate everything that had led him to this point in the comfort of his own, warm bed … or rather, his own comfortable couch, since the pillows on the left side of the bed still smelled like Stiles’ cologne.

Taking in his pained expression and the way he was gripping his arm seemed to take the wind out of Erica’s sails and Derek was not really prepared when the younger woman suddenly stepped around his desk, positioned herself behind his chair and rested her chin on the top of his head, hands firmly gripping each shoulder.

“Look, Derek. I am sorry, I was out of line, but I saw a bunch of my closest friends getting hurt over the weekend and there was nothing I could do to help, which sucks in so many ways I can’t even begin to name them. That you’d just voluntarily add yourself to that list is … it made me angry boss, is all,” she said softly and Derek sighed, rubbing at his temple and smiling slightly when Erica gently smacked his hands away, applying pressure to his forehead as she began to dig her thumbs against the sides of his temple and moved them in small circles.

“I’m not the one who got hurt,” he muttered, closing his eyes as Erica’s skilled hands massaged some of his tension away and Erica clucked her tongue in response.

“People don’t get under your skin like that boss, not normally, so yeah, pretty sure you got hurt, too … For what it’s worth, I’m truly sorry, I thought … well … it doesn’t matter what I thought. Damn it boss, I love you, but I _hate_ this company sometimes!”

Derek chuckled humorlessly.

“If people saw us like this they’d probably file a sexual harassment suit and then you’d have reason to hate this company even more,” he muttered, deciding not to comment on his potentially hurt feelings further and Erica snorted.

“As I established at my very first company Christmas party, I am a very tactile person. They’ll understand,” she commented and Derek huffed out a short laugh, vividly remembering the mortified look on Laura’s face when a tipsy Erica had tugged at her ears to figure out if they were as adorable as Derek’s or if that didn’t run in the Hale family after all.

If his memory served him correctly, Peter had actually looked insulted when Erica hadn’t spared his ears a single glance all evening.

She had been fresh out of college and Derek had already come to depend on her a hundred percent, so it had all been forgiven, but Laura still draped her hair over her ears when she came to see Derek in his office, a gesture that had at first embarrassed and then deeply amused Erica, who believed in owning up to one’s drunken mishaps.

“This year got off to a good start,” Derek muttered when Erica removed her hands, sinking back into his chair with a sigh at the brief relief between his temples.

Erica leaned against his desk and shrugged, expression somewhat sympathetic.

“Look at it this way Derek … there is no way it could possibly get any worse.”

 

 

It were these precise words that rang through Derek’s head ten hours later when he, not quite drunk yet but definitely on the heavier side of tipsy, was just about to enter “The Jungle” and almost collided with none other than Stiles, who was exiting the club with his arm draped around a rather tall, chiseled guy’s shoulders.

His great idea to forget all about Stiles by hooking up with someone even hotter, born in the middle of a pity-party and after the third glass of wine on an empty stomach in his solitary loft, suddenly seemed like a truly horrible disaster and judging by the almost disgusted look on Stiles’ face the younger man was definitely sharing the sentiment.

For a moment they just stared at each other, both refusing to look away, but then Stiles scoffed, muttering, “Come on, Isaac!” to his friend/hook-up/love of his life, and Derek could only stare after them, almost missing the bouncer’s impatient, “Are you going in or not?”

“Not,” Derek managed, turning around on slightly wobbly feet and making a beeline for the next taxi, his stomach feeling sour and definitely no longer in the mood to meet, let alone touch anyone tonight.

Erica had been wrong, Derek decided the following morning, his head resting on the cool lid of the toilet seat as he deeply regretted his decision to empty the rest of the bottle and downing a shot every time he imagined the tall hot guy draped all over Stiles.

There was definitely no way it could get any worse than _this._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional Comments: Stiles has very personal reasons for flying off the handle so quickly when it comes to the mistreatment of carriers, reasons that will be revealed at a later time.
> 
> Also, keep the last scene of this chapter in mind, it'll be important later. ;)
> 
>  
> 
> Next Update: Between Sunday-Tuesday of next week
> 
> Chapter Title: The Beginning (Weeks 4-7)
> 
> Chapter Summary: Derek starts experiencing unusually severe reactions to his shots, has an unsettling meeting in a park, and accuses Erica of bringing in the Plague from her cruise vacation. 
> 
>  
> 
> Feel free to speculate, voice thoughts, or questions in the comment section, I always love hearing what you guys think!


	4. The Beginning (Weeks 4-7)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to post the next chapter early if this story reached a certain amount of followers before the end of the weekend and lo and behold I actually surpassed that number by 1 today, so whoever clicked "subscribe" on this story last, this chapter is for you and I truly appreciate the support! :)
> 
> Let's get on then with the mpreg part of this - and I quote - angstfest central I've got planned for you guys!

**_4 Weeks_ **

“Good morning sunshine!” Erica’s voice rang out brightly, startling Derek, who had been slumped over on his desk, wide-awake.

“Wha …” he began, interrupting himself with a big yawn.

Erica shook her head with a smile, fond expression turning to outright amusement when she noticed the yellow sticky note that had attached itself to Derek’s forehead.

“You are too cute, boss,” she commented, grinning at Derek when he rubbed his eyes.

“I can’t believe I fell asleep at my desk,” he muttered, shaking his head at himself when he noticed the time.

“Well, most of us take their naps _after_ lunch, but hey, getting a little nap in before noon never hurt anybody I say,” Erica teased him, waving the little injection kit in her hand in front of his face.

“Afraid you are going to want to take another nap here in a second boss, and this time we are not putting it off until Monday,” she said authoritatively, rolling her eyes at him when he sighed deeply.

“If we must,” he muttered, rolling up his sleeve and wincing slightly when the motion rustled the fabric over his chest, which was oddly sensitive today.

“We must, I want to keep my job after all. Not that I ever expected part-time nurse to be in the job-description, but you never know when skills like these will come in handy,” Erica said jovially, busying herself with disinfecting a little patch of skin and getting the needle ready.

As usual, Derek looked away when she administered the shot, wondering why no one had ever thought about using pills as a treatment for his disease.

When he looked back at his arm, Erica had put a _Hello Kitty_ band-aid over the puncture-mark, grinning at him like the she-devil she was.

“Feel all better now boss?” she cooed and Derek snorted against his will.

“You’re a menace,” he said, rolling his eyes when Erica patted his thigh comfortingly.

“You love me anyway boss,” she stated and Derek didn’t feel the need to contradict her – mostly accurate – assumption.

“Now that we’ve taken care of the shot-stuff, we still have to go over your appointment book for next week before lunch,” she said once Derek had rolled down his sleeve again and Derek nodded, determined to make the best of the time he had left before the after-shot-sleepiness set in.

To his great surprise he was still feeling relatively alert at noon and when Erica asked him what he wanted for lunch he shook his head, feeling in the mood to take a short walk outside and picking up his lunch himself for a change.

Erica was all too happy to agree, her phone already out as she texted Boyd to come meet her in the little diner across the street, and Derek shook his head fondly, wondering when his PA and her boyfriend would finally get married, considering he had seen that development coming the first moment he had ever seen them together three years ago.

Then again, he could understand Erica’s reluctance to make their relationship official, considering she worked for a place that was in the habit of firing people for their private life choices.

Unbidden, images of Stiles popped into his head again and not even the warm mid-February sun could cheer him up as he walked towards the sandwich shop at the Central Park entrance closest to their office, his mind replaying the angry conversation he had had with Stiles almost against his will.

Cora had been apologetic but firm when she had informed Derek that Stiles definitely did not want to speak to him ever again and as he made himself comfortable on one of the rock-formations in the park Derek once again felt sorry for his sister, who had been on rather tense terms with her friends ever since he had fired Danny.

She had tried to shake it off, arguing that everyone understood that there really wasn’t much she could have done and that they would come around eventually, but Derek was certain that it bothered her that she had to take the blame for the company’s discriminatory policies, especially since she herself was probably the most pro-carrier rights person in their entire family.

Mindlessly, Derek nibbled at his sandwich, his appetite all but gone as he watched the people walking past him.

It was almost Valentine’s Day and apparently that meant that every couple in the city had to take a sunny lunch-break stroll today … not that Derek blamed them, really, nor did he care about Valentine’s Day, but he couldn’t help feeling a bit lonely as he watched couples of every age and gender-combination walk past him.

He had gotten halfway through the sandwich when the headache started, a dull throbbing behind his left temple, and he cursed silently, berating himself for once again forgetting to drink enough water before he got his shot.

He had just taken a sip from his water bottle when a young couple sat down on a rock close to him, catching his attention.

They were two men, in their early twenties if Derek wasn’t mistaken, one dark-haired and green-eyed and the other with light-brown hair and eyes that reminded Derek of Stiles just a little.

Their faces were rosy from the cold and they were chatting animatedly, the dark-haired man shaking his head fondly at the light-haired one, who had spread a blanket over the rock and was currently trying to fluff up a pillow.

It wasn’t until they sat down, the dark-haired man leaning back against his boyfriend/husband with a contented sigh and the paler man resting one hand on his partner’s midsection that Derek realized just why the amber-eyed one had taken such pains to make the rock as comfortable as possible.

Most pregnant men carried differently than women, the difference in their build usually contributing to the fact that most of them hardly ever showed any outward signs of being pregnant until they reached their third trimester, with some lucky few being able to easily hide their condition right until they gave birth even, their upper bodies usually wide enough for the child to grow unseen for a while before they grew outwards, always depending on how high they carried, of course.

After all, Danny Mahealani had been able to successfully hide his pregnancy for a little over eight months, the only sign of him being pregnant being that he had steadily gotten just a bit thicker around his midsection before developing something that, to Derek’s relatively untrained eye, had looked like the beginnings of a tiny potbelly at best.

This one probably couldn’t have hidden it if he’d tried, his slim, rather tiny build evident even through his winter coat, but then again, judging by the loving caresses he was enjoying from his partner right in the middle of Central Park, Derek didn’t think he’d ever had any intentions of hiding it in the first place.

With little warning the dull throbbing inside his temples turned into piercing needles pricking against the back of his eyes and Derek winced, dropping the remainders of his sandwich, his appetite long gone.

The movement had obviously gotten the men’s attention and when he looked at them again they were both staring at him, their expressions similar mixtures of caution and defiance.

Startled, Derek realized how this was probably looking for them – a stranger staring at them with a grimace on his face, looking like he had just stepped out of an anti-carrier-discrimination commercial by the Equal Rights for Carriers-Group which, for whichever reason, seemed intent on always casting big, muscular, bearded men who usually looked like the spitting image of Derek in the role of the carrier-phobic bully and antagonist.

Big, muscular, bearded men were apparently carrier-phobic by default.

“See something you don’t like?” the pregnant man called out, his hands joining those of his partner on his stomach in what was clearly a protective gesture and Derek’s eyes widened, his hands coming up in what he hoped was a placating gesture, shaking his head rapidly and worsening his headache immediately.  

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to …” was all he got out before his stomach lurched violently, the pain inside his head exploding in a fiery crescendo and he doubled over, barely managing to lean over the edge of the rock before he became ill.

He was dimly aware of two firm hand that were suddenly holding on to his shoulders, securely keeping him from toppling over the rock and when it was over Derek panted breathlessly, his hands digging into his temples and squeezing his eyes shut against the suddenly piercing sunlight.

“Easy, easy,” a soothing voice spoke near his ear and when the pain had receded enough that Derek dared to open his eyes again he found himself face-to-face with two worried men.

“Jeez, dude, I am _so_ sorry! I thought you were about to launch into a hate-speech, I didn’t realize you were about to become ill,” the pregnant man said, wringing his hands unhappily and Derek inhaled deeply, grateful for the still steadying presence of the other man behind his back.

“I’m sorry you had to see this,” he said when he trusted himself to open his mouth again, shoulders slumping in relief that his stomach was apparently empty now.

“Seriously dude, don’t sweat it, me and the hubby have seen our fair share of vomit these past couple of months,” the pregnant man said, one hand coming to rest on his stomach lightly as his husband snorted softly behind Derek.

“More than our fair share if you ask me,” he said pleasantly, letting go of Derek’s shoulders experimentally and moving around him, wrapping an arm around his husband’s waist as he stared at Derek with a calculating gaze.

“Did you eat something bad? A late night at the club? Something more … long-term?” he asked carefully and Derek raised his eyebrows in confusion, quickly lowering them again when another burst of pain rippled across his temples.

“Bad reaction to some medication,” he replied, massaging his temples to make them feel better.

“Really bad, actually, this is definitely a first,” he muttered, taking another deep breath when he felt just the barest hint of nausea returning.

“You do look a little green around the gills,” the pregnant man said softly, hand twitching as if he wanted to touch Derek, before he lowered it back to his side.

“Do you want us to take you to a doctor? Just to make sure there’s nothing else going on? My OBGYN’s office is right across the park, he’s trained for all sorts of things, I’m sure he’d be willing to make sure you aren’t suffering from some serious side-effects … or something,” he said, his tone growing cautious once again and Derek chuckled lightly, some of the color returning to his face when he felt the nausea receding.

“I have never been inside an OBGYN’s office in my life, I assure you that’s not necessary,” he said as politely as possible, feeling just a little bit irritated that male carriers apparently thought any man who felt a bit under the weather needed to be seen by an OBGYN, stat.

“Okay,” the carrier’s husband said easily, though the skeptical expression on his face made Derek wonder if he should dig out his ID-card to display his non-carrier status just in case.

As if he had read his thoughts the pregnant man’s smile became a tad terser, his expression once again closing off as he regarded Derek critically.

“If you’re certain,” he said politely and Derek felt a little bad for how awkward the situation had become, though he wasn’t sure how to fix it.

A glance at his watch told him he didn’t really have to and he stood up gingerly, relieved that the worst of it had obviously passed.

“Well, thank you again for helping me out, I appreciate it,” he said and the couple nodded, their gazes still a bit too calculating for Derek’s taste.

“You know …” the pregnant man spoke up again, just as Derek had set foot on the ground next to the rock formation and when he turned around, they had resumed their prior position, cuddled against each other on the blanket and pillow, all four of their combined hands placed on top of their child.

“If you have another bad reaction to your … _medication_ … you should try ginger root. Some say it’s a little overhyped, but it really does help,” he said, and Derek nodded in acknowledgment, figuring that it probably couldn’t hurt to take advice on how to combat nausea from a pregnant guy, even if the root cause was different.

To his great relief the headache had significantly decreased by the time he got back to the office and he took it as a sign that he probably looked a lot better, too, when Erica, who was occasionally too observant for her own good, didn’t so much as blink at him when he dropped a stack of papers on her desk an hour later.

Nevertheless, he hoped that this was a one-time thing – he definitely had better things to do with his time than throw up violently once a month.

 

  ** _7 Weeks_**

“Here lies Derek Sebastian Hale, a philanthropist at heart. He was nice to his PA and she gave him the Plague as a thank you,” Derek groaned, flushing the toilet for what felt like the hundredth time that day, leaning back so he could rest his head against the cool rim of the commode.

“Stop being such a bad gender-cliché by being a baby about a little bit of vomit Derek, seriously, you’re not the first man on Earth who ever got the stomach flu!” Cora supplied helpfully from outside the bathroom and Derek sniffed in consternation.

“Obviously, in fact, this particular stomach flu has probably been enjoyed by roughly 2000 people before me!” he snarked back, regretting the decision to speak immediately when more bile came up his throat, making him double over with watering eyes.

Two weeks ago Erica had finally held her brand-new engagement ring right under Derek’s nose with a rather high-pitched squeal and Derek, who had been genuinely happy for her, had taken it upon himself to clear his calendar for a week, making sure he and the department would survive if Erica took a five-day vacation, before sending her and Boyd on a spontaneous engagement-celebration-cruise-trip, courtesy of the company (he was planning to file the expense under “Office Management”, since, knowing Erica, she would have probably been distracted for at least a week anyways).

Erica had come back with a tan, the tackiest excuse for a souvenir paper-weight Derek had ever seen in his life, and horror stories about the stomach flu from hell, that had broken out on the ship on the last day of the vacation and confined most of the guests and part of the crew to their quarters, including Boyd, who had, thankfully, been able to shake the bug within 24 hours.

Although his assistant remained healthy as a horse she had obviously carried some sort of residue viral matter with her, as Derek had realized around 6 the next morning when he had barely made it to the bathroom for the first of what was shaping up to be more times than he could count.

Erica had sent him a _Hello Kitty_ get-well card with a big **_Sorry!_** and a frowny face written under it and Derek had pinned it to the fridge, chuckling despite his best attempts not to, before having to rush to the bathroom yet again for another bout of vomiting.

On day four of near constant nausea and slightly less vomiting (though Derek figured that was probably due to the fact that his body had finally figured out that there was nothing left to be discarded) he had almost been ready to pay a visit to Dr. Blake, despite his somewhat irrational dislike for the woman who Peter insisted on being their entire family’s primary care physician, however, Cora had dropped in for a visit and Derek had decided to place his trust in his little sister’s TLC capabilities.

TLC capabilities that obviously relied on verbal smack-talk, he mused grumpily as he pushed himself up from the floor to exit the bathroom, frowning when Cora greeted him with a surgical mask.

“Really?” he grumbled, plopping down onto the couch with a sigh and pushing his face into the pillow and Cora shrugged.

“I love you brother dearest, but there’s no way I’ll risk catching what you have. It looks really gross,” she said, holding out a cup of steaming ginger root tea for him.

“Erica says hi, btw. She hopes you are not going to replace her with a new assistant and would like to remind you that you love her way too much to do that,” she recited dutifully and Derek let out a small huff, gratefully accepting the ginger tea and sipping carefully.

He had been irrationally reluctant to try the tea at first, feeling a little uncomfortable with trying something that had kind of a morning-sickness remedy reputation, but four days of constant nausea was three days and twenty-three hours more than he was used to and so he had finally given up and asked Cora to grab some on her way over.

It was probably a placebo-effect, but he did start feeling a bit better after only a few sips in, allowing him to settle himself more comfortable on the couch, now that he didn’t feel the ever-present danger of having to sprint to the toilet.

“Tell Erica I hate her and her days are numbered,” he finally replied and Cora smirked, getting out her phone.

“Derek says, “I’d never fire you, I’d be lost without you,”” she freely translated, hitting send before Derek could half-heartedly protest.

“I hate you, too,” he mumbled, setting down his cup on the couch table and closing his eyes, hand lightly rubbing circles into his abdomen, willing it to start feeling better already.

“Of course you do,” Cora said lightly, her voice just a bit muffled through the mask as she leaned forward to pull something out of her messenger bag.

“Work-stuff?” Derek asked, cracking open one eye and regarding her balefully and Cora shrugged in apology.

“Erica and I were going to wait until you got better but since you have decided to exchange Dr. Blake’s expertise with your own we figured we’d rather get this done now, before your own stupidity puts you in your dehydrated grave,” she said dryly and Derek rolled his eyes.

“You know how they say that a cold takes seven days with medication and a week without? Same thing, it’s just a stomach bug, no need to go to the doctor for that,” he muttered, frowning when Cora burst out laughing.

“Says the man who, just minutes earlier, was composing his tombstone. You’re kind of pathetically adorable Der-Bear, you know that, right?” she asked and Derek closed his eyes again, feeling a lot less adorable than normal and quite a bit more pathetic than he was used to.

Cora sobered up quickly.

“I’m sorry Derek, I know you’re feeling crappy. I wouldn’t have bothered you with this if I could have avoided it, but these really do need your signature,” she said, sliding the stack of papers over to him.

With a soft groan Derek pushed himself into a sitting position, mindful of his sensitive stomach as he began to sign the various papers Cora had put into his lap. 

They were mostly formalities, the majority of them regarding people from the IT or Website department, and he had almost made it to the bottom when the name on one of the papers made his nausea come back full force.

“Stiles is leaving the company?” he asked and Cora swore briefly, though she made no attempt to snatch the paper away from Derek.

“Crap! That wasn’t even supposed to be in there! Yeah, he handed in his notice two weeks ago, he’s got a new job at _Nemeton_ , you know, that liberal hippie-publishing house run by Alan Deaton? A lot of the stuff they publish is super up his alley, a bunch of monsters, vampires, werewolves, and whatnot, and they are also known for being one of the most carrier-friendly companies in the nation, a, and I am quoting him here, “Quality that this intolerant shithole lacks,” end quotation.”

She gave him an apologetic smile, reaching over to take Stiles’ termination papers back.

“He’s going to make less money there, but he said he’d rather have less income than work here anymore. From what he’s told me Danny’s got a job waiting for him there as well, as soon as he pops out that kid and finishes up his three months of paternity leave and … Derek, are you ok?”

Derek shook his head slightly, hunched over his chest as he started breathing in and out through his nose, willing himself not to throw up again, the nausea welling up inside him like waves.

He had no way to prove it, but something was telling him that the bug was only partly to blame this time.

When the peak passed he looked up at his sister, who had knelt down in front the couch and was stroking his hair.

“I’ll get you sick,” he muttered, his voice slightly muffled and Cora shrugged, her expression shaken.

“For a moment there I thought you were going to topple off the couch and faint on me, you turned white as a sheet! It’s not a good look on you by the way,” she said softly, obviously going for teasing at the end but looking more worried instead.

“How do you feel? Do you think you need to vomit again?” she asked and Derek concentrated; then shook his head.

“You definitely need to go lie down on a real bed, though, you really are sick, jeez,” Cora muttered, offering him her arm and pulling him halfway up the couch.

“I can walk, you know,” Derek said, feeling a bit stupid over being manhandled by his sister, who probably weighed half as him, and Cora snorted.

“Better safe than sorry Mr. Ghost-Face,” she replied, her arm never leaving his elbow as she steered him towards the bed, ignoring his protestations when she fluffed up his pillows and then pulled the blanket up to his chest.

“Alright Derek, it’s Friday now. If this hasn’t cleared up by the end of the weekend I’m going to drag you to see Jennifer and this time there will be no excuses, alright?” she asked, tussling his hair just like their mother had used to do and Derek leaned into the touch, grateful that she was there despite his earlier assurances that he would be just fine on his own.

“I promise,” he said solemnly.

“And you better not have gotten me sick, too,” Cora added, earning a weak chuckle from her brother.

“Would be your own damn fault,” Derek muttered, fighting against the exhaustion that had suddenly set in.

“How is he doing then?” he asked quietly, cracking open one red-rimmed eye to look at her and Cora stroked his arm comfortingly.

“Who? Stiles?”

Derek shook his head.

“No … I mean yeah, but … no, I actually meant Danny.”

Cora smiled.

“Danny is doing really well actually, I think he’s quite enjoyed having three men wait on him religiously for the past weeks. Scott says they’ve got most of their stuff in storage until they can afford a new place that’s big enough for a nursery, but they’ve put the baby-stuff into the guest room and I guess that’s all they are going to need for now anyways. Baby Ethaniel should be here any day now,” she answered and Derek raised his eyebrows sleepily.

“Ethaniel? Weird name,” he muttered, prompting Cora to chuckle.

“It’s a Stiles-Invention, obviously they aren’t going to name the poor kid a combination of their own names. Ethaniel is actually an improvement, Stiles was calling the kid Dethan Junior for the first half of the pregnancy.”

She bit her lips, almost as an afterthought, and Derek groaned.

“You knew about this, didn’t you?” he accused her and Cora sighed.

“You _know_ I don’t care about this stuff Derek, live and let live is what I think! I’m friends with them, so my knowledge was personal, not professional. I had to act when Dahler went and blabbed it to my bosses, but as far as I’m concerned, who cares!”

Derek shook his head, a little more awake now.

“Don’t ever let Laura find out, she’ll tear you a new one,” he advised her and Cora huffed.

“I’m not stupid you know. The only one who’s stupid is Peter, and Laura by association. You as well, but that has more to do with your reluctance to get your butt to a doctor,” she remarked, ignoring Derek’s half-hearted growl.

“As far as Stiles is concerned …” she continued, her eyes going soft, “he’s doing well. A little disappointed with mankind and the universe right now, but I think he gave up on those when he was about three and discovered sarcasm anyways. He’s really excited about having a baby in the house though; who would have thought the guy loves kids so much! Scott, too, actually, he says they’ve been tripping all over each other to get to Danny first when he wants something. Ethan actually had to put his foot down the other day and remind them who put the bun in the oven, it must have been quite the spectacle,” she said fondly and Derek smiled sadly.

“Does he ever …?” he began, biting his lip when Cora shook her head, obviously aware of what he had been trying to ask.

“Stiles is pretty principled, as evidenced by his decision to find a new job because of how Danny’s been treated. If he says he’s done with someone that means he’s done. Sorry Derek, I wouldn’t have introduced you guys if I had known this was going to happen, I wasn’t thinking,” she apologized and Derek shrugged, going for nonchalance and only succeeding halfway when he said, “It’s fine.”

His eyes were falling shut again and Cora smiled.

“Need a feel-better-tummy-rub before I go?” she asked and Derek cracked his eyes open again, frowning at her in disbelief.

“Am I three?” he asked pointedly and his younger sister laughed.

“That’s what Laura demands when she feels ill, don’t look at me,” she defended herself, chuckling.

“Laura’s weird,” Derek stated with conviction and Cora grinned.

“She is. But then again, so are you, I’m the only normal one in this family.”

“Considering that you’ve got Peter as a point of comparison that really isn’t quite the achievement you think it is,” Derek mumbled, smiling slightly when Cora rested her hand on his belly comfortingly, the gesture more soothing than he would have thought.

He fell asleep soon after and when he woke up the next day Cora had left a thermos filled with ginger root tea on his nightstand, as well as a sticky note that read, “If you’ve infected me I will end you, XOXO”.

Derek huffed in amusement, slowly sipping the tea to calm his once again protesting stomach.

He was still nauseous but he managed to keep down his breakfast of dry toast, as well as a boiled potato at lunch, and he almost made it through dinner before having to vomit one last time.

At the end of Sunday he texted Erica that he would be coming to work on Monday and as he boarded the subway to the office early Monday morning he decided to simply attribute the left-over queasiness to being hungry.

He had, after all spent almost an entire week eating hardly anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional Note: Derek's middle name starts with an S, which is canon, and I have decided in my own personal head-canon that his middle name is Sebastian. Derek and Hale is rather short so I felt there had to be something with more syllables in there. 
> 
>  
> 
> Next Chapter Update: Between Sunday-Tuesday
> 
> Chapter Title: Ethaniel Dethan Junior the Precious
> 
> Chapter Summary: Fluffiness ensues as Danny and Ethan have their baby, then Stiles and Derek have a tense unforeseen encounter that results into Stiles entering politics.


	5. Ethaniel Dethan Junior the Precious (Weeks 7-10)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluffiness ensues as Danny and Ethan have their baby, then Derek and Stiles have a tense encounter that leads to the latter joining a political movement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Sunday everyone :).

Stiles had watched a lot of birth-scenes ever since he had left the company to prepare for the arrival of Danny and Ethan’s baby, everything from romantic comedies to television series, and they had led him to conclude that a) there was a bunch of agonized screaming and gasping, b) a rather dramatic and/or hilarious moment in which the water broke and flooded everything within a 5 feet-radius, c) that the person giving birth was going to curse a lot and break the father’s hand, all while maintaining a perfect hairstyle, and d) that little babies were born pretty, cute, rosy, and clean like a freshly showered little piglet.

Most importantly, the impending birth was always announced by the ever-present “It’s time!” (or “Wake up, it’s time!” depending on the hour during which the blessed event occurred).

Reality, however, proved to be a little different on all five accounts, as Stiles found out one early Saturday evening, just before dinner.

The impending birth of ‘Ethaniel Dethan Junior the Precious’ (Stiles’ newest term of endearment whenever he referred to the kid) was announced by its father’s surprised exclamation of “Ow?” followed by “Fuck! Ow!” and then “Awww, crap, that’s just gross!” as he stared at the tiny puddle (“It wasn’t even a foot wide, the movies lied to me!” Stiles would claim later) on the kitchen floor between his feet.

For a moment nobody in the kitchen moved a muscle, three pairs of eyes glued to Danny’s swollen belly in horror, almost as if they were expecting the baby to burst forth like a chest-buster that very moment.

“Uhm, guys? _Ow_?!” Danny repeated, an exasperated grin on his face and just like that the kitchen turned into a flurry of motion and panicky voices.

In his haste to get to Danny’s hospital bag Ethan almost trampled over Scott, who was busy mopping up the floor (“I don’t want him to slip and break something, this is a health hazard!”), while Stiles wrung his hands as he paced up and down in front of Danny.

“This is it, this is it, it’s time, oh my gosh, Danny-Boy, it’s time! Do you need anything? A back-rub, a popsicle, some hot water?”

Danny blinked.

“What would I do with hot water? And I’d love a back-rub, obviously … but what I’d love even more is for you guys to get me to the hospital,” he said pleasantly, one hand pushed against the small of his back and the other cradling his lower belly to take some of the pressure off.

Stiles stilled, his expression a mixture of panic and confusion.

“But … but they always scream for hot water in the movies, there must be a reason for it!” he protested, ignoring Danny’s very pointed eye-roll.

“Yeah, in movies that take place in the dark ages,” Danny supplied helpfully and Scott, who had finished drying the floor, stood up with a frown.

“How would they have gotten the water hot so quickly though? And how did it stay hot? I mean, you never know how long a birth’s going to take, do you think they had a guy who, like, was in charge of constantly lighting fire under the pot?” he asked, scratching the back of his head and Stiles shook his head.

“I think they just left the pot hanging over the kitchen fire? That way it stayed warm and they could use it when needed.”

“But wouldn’t that have boiled the baby, if they constantly had the pot set to boiling? Fire is really, really hot,” Scott protested and Stiles was gearing up for a rebuttal when Ethan interrupted them.

“I would like to point out at this moment that these weirdos were _your_ friends first, not mine!” the nervous father to be announced, having obviously calmed down a little now that he had Danny’s hospital bag slung over his shoulder and the promise of professional help was only a car-ride away.

It was, Scott and Stiles were in unanimous agreement, the longest car-ride of their lives, the tense atmosphere occasionally interrupted by Danny’s soft gasps and one pained little whimper that he let out while they were waiting at the last red light before the hospital, causing Ethan’s knuckles to go white as he held onto the steering wheel for dear life.

Dr. Melissa McCall was already waiting at the registration desk when Scott and Stiles breathlessly burst into the hospital, not even having bothered to wait for Danny, who was following them at a much more sedate pace, his arm firmly wrapped around his husband’s shoulders for support.

Scott’s mother had been Danny’s OBGYN from the beginning. She was known among carriers for being one of the more open-minded doctors in the city, making no difference between pregnant women or pregnant men.

She had originally been an internist, however, after Scott had been initially misdiagnosed as a carrier 12 years ago she had immediately changed gears and signed up for OBGYN training, painfully aware of how few doctors were out there who treated their male pregnant patients with respect and dignity.

Although Scott’s blood-work had turned out to be a mix-up in the lab less than a week later, quickly confirmed by a thorough ultrasound examination, Melissa had stuck to her career change and she had been a well-respected doctor in the field ever since.

“It’s _time_!” Scott declared to the hospital at large and Melissa chuckled, rolling her eyes and shaking her head at her son fondly.

“I can see that Scott,” she said, walking past her panting son and clasping Danny’s arm in compassion.

“How are we feeling Danny?” she asked, and Danny shrugged with a small smile.

“I’ve felt better. The kid definitely wants out though, my water broke about forty minutes ago and the contractions have been coming every ten minutes or so,” he reported and Melissa nodded encouragingly.

“Well, we’ll get you set up in the delivery ward and once we’ve made sure everything is going along as it should I’ll leave you with your lovely husband and the two nutjobs over there. It’s probably going to be a little while before things get interesting here, but you were right to come in when you did,” she said gently, once more shaking her head when Scott fumbled for his Asthma inhaler and almost knocked over a flowerpot.

After pronouncing him almost three centimeters dilated and promising to check back with them throughout the night Melissa continued making her rounds, leaving Scott, Stiles, and Ethan to watch over Danny, who, when he wasn’t squeezing his eyes shut during a contraction and softly cursing under his breath, was being his usual pleasant, if a bit snarky self.

“Can you stop that?” Danny groaned six hours later and Stiles guiltily pushed his leg down, willing it to stop twitching and making noises on the hospital floor.

“Sorry, it’s just … my leg is just really excited to meet your kid apparently,” he reported sheepishly, yawning loudly immediately after.

“I don’t think your _leg_ will have to wait much longer,” Melissa commented from the door, startling her son and sending him crashing to the floor from the precarious position in the chair he had fallen asleep in just minutes before.

“Oh honey,” Melissa muttered exasperatedly into the direction where Scott was trying to pick himself up with a flaming red face, flashing Danny and Ethan an encouraging smile as she checked the former’s progress.

“Like I said, not much longer at all, you are fully dilated and you’ll soon feel the need to push,” she said gently, sighing loudly when two simultaneous squawks sounded out behind her.

“You are sure you want these two in the room with you? Absolutely, one hundred percent sure?” she directed towards Danny and Danny shrugged, biting his lip when another contraction took hold of him.

After it had passed he shrugged again.

“They’ve earned it with all the unsolicited foot-rubs. Besides, as long as they don’t stare at my privates I don’t care if the Queen of England is in the room with me,” he said, grasping Ethan’s hand tightly when his husband helped him sit up to get into a better position for the birth.

“There’s a baby about to come out of your privates … kind of impossible not to look, you know!” Scott protested, cheeks rosy with excitement, and Melissa groaned.

“I swear I did not raise him this way. There’s the door, kind of impossible not to exit when you’re getting kicked out,” she said sternly and Scott blushed, snapping his mouth shut as he shuffled over to stand next to Ethan.

“What should we do then?” Stiles asked and Melissa considered.

“If you really want to make yourself useful you can hold up one of his legs while Ethan holds the other… if that’s ok with you, Danny,” she said firmly and Danny nodded through another contraction, a look of determination appearing on his face.

“What about me?” Scott asked eagerly, still blushing furiously.

Danny groaned.

“Go get me some hot water!” he gritted out, bearing down as the strongest contraction yet tore through him, pushing the child further down the birth-canal.

Twenty minutes and four pushes later, Ethaniel Dethan Junior the Precious entered the world with a loud, healthy scream, greeted by a beaming Melissa, an awestruck Uncle Stiles, who seemed to have completely forgotten about his death grip on Danny’s leg for the moment, a crying Ethan, an exhausted, but blissfully smiling Danny, and his tired but excited Uncle Scott, who was holding a jug of now barely lukewarm water like a man on a mission.

“There he is Daddy,” Melissa said softly as she placed the screaming baby on Danny’s chest and Danny smiled brighter than Stiles had ever seen him smile before, all the pain obviously forgotten as he cradled the baby like the most precious treasure in the universe.

“Stiles? You can put my leg down now, you know,” Danny said, looking up at him with an amused but tired smile and Stiles startled, blushing as he gently lowered Danny’s leg and released it from his death-grip, allowing Melissa to oversee the rest of the birthing process.

“I can’t believe you made him, he’s perfect!” Ethan whispered, tears still rolling down his face and Danny craned his neck to look at his husband, beaming through tears himself.

“ _We_ made him, and of course he’s perfect. He’s ours,” he whispered back, accepting a soft kiss from Ethan before both men turned back to their son.

“I think I’m going to cry,” Scott mumbled next to Stiles, the jug of water still clutched tightly in his hands, and Stiles laughed happily, overwhelmed by the love in the room.

“You and me both Scotty,” he declared solemnly, not able to drag his eyes away from the new family.

An hour later Danny had successfully produced “the most disgusting thing I have ever seen in my entire life, holy crap, Scott, look, I think it’s about to come to life and _attack,_ hey, what do you mean you’re gonna throw up?!”-afterbirth, the baby had been checked out and declared perfectly healthy and Danny was already starting to recover from the ordeal, the bags under his eyes more pronounced than they had been an hour earlier.

“You guys should go home and get some rest,” Ethan said fondly, indicating towards Scott, who was once again crashed out on one of the uncomfortable hospital chairs and drooling slightly out of the left side of his mouth.

Stiles grinned happily, feeling simultaneously exhausted and elated as he tiptoed over to the baby, who was nestled in Danny’s arms.

“Can I …” he asked, arms making a circular motion and Danny smiled encouragingly, instructing Stiles to support the head as he placed the baby in his waiting arms.

“He’s so tiny,” Stiles wondered out loud, laughing in surprise when the baby made a little shocked noise in his sleep, jerking as his legs twitched and kicked out.

“He’s not used to all this space around him yet,” Danny explained gently, interpreting Stiles’ delight for what it was, and Stiles chuckled.

“No wonder, such a big world for this little man to explore.”

He turned towards the proud new parents with a grin.

“So, what’s Ethaniel Dethan Junior the Precious’ name going to be? For real, I mean?” he asked, cooing at the child as he passed him back to Danny and Ethan smiled tiredly.

“Well, you can still call him Precious, obviously, but his actual name is going to be Nicholas Kaiko Mahealani,” he said, shaking his head at his husband when Danny protested, “ I thought we agreed he would have your last name.”

“I know we did, but that was before all of that nonsense happened. You had to give up so much more for him already than I could possible ever do, my boy is going to share his last name with the most courageous, amazing, strongest person I have ever known,” Ethan replied, kissing Danny’s temple softly when his husband swallowed heavily.

“Thank you,” Danny whispered, his voice breaking a little, and Stiles took that as his cue to rouse Scott, gently maneuvering his best friend out of the door.

They were both completely exhausted when they stumbled back into their apartment, however, neither felt inclined to sleep yet and so they both collapsed onto Scott’s king-size-bed, facing each other to talk like they had ever since they were little.

“He’s going to be a little Nicky, right?” Scott yawned, hugging his pillow ever so lovingly, and Stiles nodded, grinning brightly.

“Little Nicky is going to go and change the world one day, I can feel it in my bones!” he proclaimed and Scott laughed softly, fixing Stiles with a serious gaze.

“You know I admire the heck out of you for following through on your beliefs, right?” he stated and Stiles sobered, nodding softly.

“I know. And I don’t blame you for staying put for now, with the economy like it is. It would be insanity to give up a well-paying job without an alternative,” he said, flicking his knuckles against Scott’s shoulder affectionately.

“Yeah. The moment an opportunity arises I’m out of there though, with or without Allison,” he muttered, rolling on his back and staring at the ceiling.

“He’s so amazing and perfect, you know. It’s insane that anyone was punished for bringing him into the world,” he said and Stiles sighed.

“I know Scotty, I know.”

As Scott’s breathing evened out next to him Stiles briefly considered returning to his own bed, then shrugged, deciding to use the advantages of Scott’s memory foam mattress to compensate for the sleepless night at the hospital.

As his mind slowly drifted towards sleep his thoughts jumped to Derek, very much against his will and not for the first time in the past seven weeks.

It was insane to miss someone he had only spent one night with, but Stiles had really felt something there, more than he had felt in a long time, and the fact that Derek was just as carrier-phobic as the rest of the higher-ups at _Hale & Argent _still made him feel a little ill.

That look in Derek’s eyes though, the way he had kissed him after … Stiles had never believed in ‘once in a lifetime’-kitschy romance crap, didn’t now, actually, but as far as he was concerned what he had experienced with Derek was probably the closest that one could actually come to it in the real world.

The fact that the experience had been wasted on someone who, for all intents and purposes, was either a spineless coward or a hateful bigot was enough to prevent him from simply letting it go, the disappointment, righteous anger, and resignation still too strong for him to fully move on.

There was no use in lamenting over it though – as far as Stiles was concerned Derek had blown his chance – if he had ever wanted to _have_ a chance with Stiles in the first place that was – and he couldn’t imagine a single reason that could possibly change his mind.

 

**10 Weeks**

It was perhaps a little immature and a whole lot shallow to gripe about it, but when Derek ran into Stiles for the first time since their explosive conversation before Stiles had handed in his resignation he really wished he would have looked better.

It wasn’t that he had imagined the scenario a couple – or a lot – of times, but in these purely hypothetical visions Derek had always looked strong, desirable, and slightly cocky yet sympathetic, leading Stiles to regret ever giving up on him before they had even truly started and finally giving him the opportunity to share his real feelings about carrier rights with the man.

Some of these visions had been downright sappy, but considering how crappy he had been feeling lately Derek truly felt he was entitled to a bit of kitschy romance to make himself feel better.

Reality, however, had other plans.

Firstly, the meeting happened not in a bar or a cute little coffee house but in a busy subway car during rush hour.

Secondly, Derek not only looked like death warmed over but also felt it as he battled with his seemingly newly developed motion sickness, hoping that the feeling of lightheadedness would go away beforehe had to get out of the train.

Thirdly, he had definitely not expected Stiles to be in the company of Danny and an impossibly tiny baby, which had been taken out of the stroller and placed into Stiles’ arms for safekeeping while the proud new father looked at sports statistics in the paper.

Derek had stepped into the car two doors away from where Stiles and Danny were sitting and had, upon quickly realizing that he needed to sit down and fast, made his way to the only free seat available, which had happened to be just across from the two men.

He hadn’t even noticed them at first, eyes closed as he had taken shallow breaths to stop his head from spinning and stubbornly telling his stomach to stop rebelling against the uncomfortable smells in the stuffed space.

The sound of a baby prompted him to open his eyes, however, and when he did Stiles was staring directly at him, his grip on the baby tight as a myriad of expressions flitted over his face.

There was shock, mostly, followed by anger, and, if Derek wasn’t deluding himself, maybe even a hint of sadness, before Stiles managed to get control of his features and nodded curtly, his “Mr. Hale,” just on edge of polite.

At the mention of the name Danny’s head snapped up from his newspaper and when his eyes flickered to the baby protectively Derek felt even more horrible than before, wondering if their former employee actually thought Derek would ever do something to his child.

“Mr. Stilinski, Mr. Mahealani,” he replied, and Stiles wordlessly handed the baby over to Danny, who had dropped his newspaper into his lap and looked incredibly tense.

They were still staring at each other, the tension rising by the second, and finally Stiles sighed loudly and aggressively, pointing first at the baby and then Derek.

“This is the part where you were supposed to say, ‘Congratulations Mr. Mahealani, he’s beautiful,’” he said sharply, ignoring a grimacing Danny’s headshake.

“I …” Derek began, mentally face-palming himself, because Stiles was right, he probably should have acknowledged that despite all of the stress he and his company had put Danny through the baby seemed happy and healthy, but at that moment the motion-induced queasiness turned into full-blown, if-I-open-my-mouth-something-other-than-words-will-come-out nausea and he clamped his lips shut, hand pressing against his stomach over the soft cotton of his overcoat.

Danny’s tense expression had taken on a look of slight concern – Cora had been right, the man was obviously the nicest of nice guys and _Hale_ & _Argent_ had reserved itself a special circle of hell for its treatment of him – but Stiles seemed oblivious to his discomfort, looking at him with a challenging glare.

There was so much he had wanted to say to the man, but Derek remained silent, the danger of accidentally throwing up all over him instead too present.

“Stiles … it’s not worth it, come on,” Danny urged, voice low but not low enough for Derek to miss and Stiles gave his friend a heated look, glancing meaningfully towards the baby.

“He’s worth _everything_ , I shouldn’t be the one telling _you_ this!” he snapped, turning back towards Derek with a furious expression.

“Do you see him? This is Nicky, he’s perfect, and handsome, and probably the single best thing that has happened to all of us in years! Who gave birth to him doesn’t matter whatsoever and that you can’t even look at him and be happy for Danny is just … it’s deplorable!”

“I …” Derek tried again, swallowing heavily when he could literally feel the bile climbing up his throat and he once again pressed his lips shut, furious at his body for betraying him at such a crucial moment.

“We should go public with this, you know? Let everyone know how _Hale_ & _Argent_ not only treats its employees but … but also apparently _hates_ babies, yes, we should definitely go public with this!”

“Hear, hear!” a young girl standing close to Derek called out and her group of friends nodded, all of them fixing Derek with a disgusted expression.

Derek squared his shoulders and held on to the edge of his seat tightly, locking eyes with Stiles, who seemed to have finally realized he was speaking with a man who was about to topple out of his seat in a dead faint and now seemed torn between righteous anger and concern.

“You have no …”

 _Idea_ , Derek had wanted to say, eyes flickering between Stiles, the baby and Danny.

He didn’t hate babies, not anywhere close, he was beyond relieved both Mahealani and his son seemed healthy, and he most definitely did not want to fight Stiles, but he couldn’t voice any of these thoughts, not when his stomach-contents were just about to violently catapult themselves out of his mouth.

“Right? I have no right? Is that what you were going to say?” Stiles asked coldly, making Derek whine internally.

Of course he would have jumped to the wrong conclusion, how could he not have, given his horrible opinion of Derek, and suddenly all he wanted was to remove himself from the situation, too tired to deal with this anymore.

The subway car came to a halt and Derek, fully aware he was _not_ making an adult decision, bolted, holding on to his briefcase tightly as he shouldered his way past the people trying to exit the doors.

As soon as he stepped on the stone platform he made a beeline for the nearest trashcan, barely making it in time before he became sick.

His hands were gripping the dirty rim of the trashcan tightly, his eyes were watering and his forehead was beaded with sweat, and as he continued to dry-heave the part of him that was apparently still three years old hoped that someone – _Stiles_ – had come after him, to make sure he was ok and, now that he was actually able to speak again, finally clear up the situation.

The subway car noisily rolled out of the station behind him and when the dry-heaving finally subsided Derek pushed himself up with shaking arms, ears burning bright in humiliation when he realized that everyone around him was studiously ignoring him, no doubt disgusted by having to watch him chuck up barely digested food like that.

Stiles and Danny were, of course, nowhere to be seen and if his head hadn’t already been pounding Derek would have considered punching it against the nearest wall, sighing to himself in frustration when a glance at said wall and the sign on it revealed he was more than five stops away from his actual destination.

It was ridiculous … absolutely and utterly ridiculous that he was allowing himself to be _this_ affected by his ‘break-up’ – one couldn’t even call it break-up, not really, not after only one night – with Stiles, even though he wasn’t necessarily surprised.

He had reacted badly to his break-up with Kate as well, secluding himself from everyone for months, right until Cora and Erica had teamed up and dragged him to social events until he had surrendered his vow to solitude.

This, however, went beyond that, far beyond, in fact. He had been upset about Kate and the way she had treated him, rightfully so, but this was _literally_ making him feel sick, on top of a bunch of other complicated and conflicting emotions that he couldn’t make sense of.

And that just made no sense whatsoever, because regardless of how unpleasant his argument with Stiles had been it absolutely paled in comparison to what Kate had done to him, what had not only led to the break-up but also caused Derek to hardly be able to be in the same room with her these days.

This wasn’t him; it was as if he had been replaced by a crazed pod-person.

Derek Hale simply wasn’t the type of guy who cried himself to sleep over falling in love with a man and then losing him after having sex the staggering amount of two times, he was an adult capable of handling adult emotions.

Only lately he hadn’t felt very adult at all.

He was always tired, various parts of his body kept aching on and off, he hadn’t been able to enjoy his food for weeks and the recurring episodes of light-headedness – a consequence of the barely eating, no doubt – had left him feeling strangely … vulnerable.

Vulnerable and raw and even though no one had said anything he could definitely tell that Erica was beginning to notice something was different, especially since he had grown more and more irritable as of late.

Maybe Peter had been right … maybe he wasn’t cut out for a leadership position, maybe he was too weak, not strong enough to function under pressure.

Not that his uncle had ever said that to his face, but the screaming match Derek had had with Kate during their long-overdue breakup argument had been quite illuminating as to what his uncle actually thought of him.

Of course Derek had entertained the possibility that she had been lying, for his own peace of mind mostly, but it _had_ explained a lot.

And that right there was just wrong, because until Stiles had come along and completely messed with his emotions Derek had felt good about himself – well, not on an everyday basis, but still, overall, good – and he wasn’t used to doubting himself like this, not used to feeling so heartbroken and alone.

Something was different, wrong even.

He just couldn’t figure out what it was.

 

====================

 

To say Stiles had been startled when Derek had just _jumped_ out of the car would have been an understatement and for a moment he was ready to sprint after the man, feeling angry, disappointed, and worried all at once, but Danny firmly grabbed his arm, shaking his head with an agitated expression.

“Stiles! Please!” he hissed, adjusting Nicky in his arms when the baby began to wail.

Stiles immediately looked guilty, reaching out a hand and stroking along Nicky’s leg.

“I’m sorry Buddy, I didn’t mean to scare you, I just wanted to avenge you and your way too nice daddy,” he muttered, looking chagrined when Danny sighed as he placed his son against his shoulder and soothingly rubbed his back, smiling tiredly when Nicky’s wails quickly drifted off into soft hiccups.

“The sex was that great, huh?” Danny asked dryly and Stiles gaped at him, barely noticing that the car had started running again.

“I beg your pardon?”

Danny snorted.

“I’ve told you plenty of times in the past weeks that Ethan was over-exaggerating when he told you that Derek had been rude to me when he told me I had to pack up my desk. He could have handled it better, sure, we all sound harsher than we intend to when we’re uncomfortable about something, but it wasn’t as bad as my husband made it sound. There is no reason for you to treat the guy with such anger and the fact that you _are_ tells me that maybe – no, hear me out – that _maybe_ he got under your skin during that night and that’s what the _real_ problem is here. That he made you feel something where normally you keep yourself from feeling anything serious and that you are resenting him for it because he both represents something you hate and makes you pine for him all at the same time?”

Stiles frowned, the corners of his mouth turned down as he glared at the floor.

“I’m not _pining_ ,” he snapped and Danny huffed.

“The only reason we’ve not asked you to stop listening your break-up playlist nonstop for the past weeks is because it puts Nicky to sleep quite effectively, though I have to be honest, the next time I hear “Somebody that I used to know” I might have to punch something. I’ve known you for a long time Stiles, intimately, too, I might add, and I know that look in your eyes. You even had it five minute ago, while you were trying to burn Hale to a crisp with the power of your brain alone. He got under your skin and then tore it open with his attitude about carriers and that hurt you. And I know it doesn’t quite make sense because it was only the one night but sometimes these things don’t make sense, you know?”

He shrugged, nuzzling the baby’s head fondly.

“I was with my ex for almost two years and never thought twice about marrying him, then I met Ethan and by the end of the second date I would have said ‘yes’ if he’d asked me to marry him right then and there. You guys gave us so much crap when Ethan proposed the day after I told him I was pregnant and we went to the courthouse two weeks later, but honestly, I was ready to marry that man three years ago. Doing it now was more of a formality than anything; you know how tricky the parental rights situation can be for carrier/non-carrier couples if they aren’t married.”

He sighed, looking at Stiles intently.

“What I’m trying to say is this: I knew Mike inside and out, we had two tumultuous but mostly happy years with each other, but did I ever tell you why we broke up?”

Stiles raised his eyebrows, nodding in confusion.

“Yeah, you had grown apart and then he hooked up out with someone else and that was that.”

Danny shook his head, a little blush spreading over his cheeks.

“That wasn’t quite how it happened. The hooking-up with someone else part was true, but to be fair, we were pretty much broken up by then, we just hadn’t made it final yet. Do you remember when I started working with _Hale_ & _Argent_ and the only birth control they covered in the medical benefits plan was that horrid monthly shot that has been proven to have severe side-effects, potential infertility included? I was on that for about three months before I decided I’d rather pay the fifty bucks a month to get my pill than take something for free that made me feel like crap and well, there was this two week period in between when I wasn’t technically protected and one night there was wine, and a rooftop under the stars, and … anyways, I had a pregnancy scare a couple of weeks later when you almost killed me with that expired seafood-salad sandwich … I’m never letting that go by the way, just so you know … and when the test was negative my first thought wasn’t ‘Thank god I’m not having a baby,’ it was ‘Thank god I’m not having a baby with Mike’. And once I’d realized that, other things that I had previously been ignoring were starting to come together. It ended a couple of weeks after that.”

He kissed Nicky’s head again, smiling fondly.

“When I told Ethan the test was positive Ethan didn’t say anything for a moment and then he asked me if having a family with him was what I really wanted, if that was what was going to make me happy. And he looked terrified, but he was so _excited_ , and I looked at him and there was just no doubt in my mind that we were going to be happy. In fact, knowing that I was going to have a family with the man I loved more than anything was the one thing that kept me going when hiding it was becoming more and more difficult. That’s what commitment is, and I would have said ‘yes’ to it after two dates. The point I’m trying to make is it happens, maybe it’s rare, but it happens, and when you walked into that living room that morning the look on your face was exactly like the one I saw in the mirror the morning after my first date with Ethan. So I understand Stiles, believe me, I do. I know what it feels like. And Derek just went and took that feeling away from you. It’s ok to be upset for a while, I know I would be,” Danny finished, raising an eyebrow when Stiles shook his head with a sigh.

“Whatever I may feel or not feel for Derek the Carrier-Phobic-Asshole Hale is secondary to you losing your job and almost ending up on the streets with my little godson here,” Stiles said firmly, looking at Danny earnestly.

“Am I pining? Hell, I don’t even know anymore, it’s just too stupid to even think about it, honestly, but the fact of the matter remains that I switched jobs because of this, because I care about you and the little guy here and I can’t have you think otherwise, because contrary to popular belief I do _not_ think with my dick!”

“I know that Stiles,” Danny said softly, gently nudging his elbow into the man’s side.

Stiles was about to reply when a new voice rang out, sounding like the speaker was barely able to contain her excitement.

“Uh … excuse me?”

Stiles and Danny looked up simultaneously, only to come face to face with a young woman who was kneading her fingers nervously, though her expression was almost adorably determined.

“Hi, uhm, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop or anything … and I _definitely_ didn’t hear anything about what you two just talked about, nope, not at all … but I was wondering … were you serious about making the discriminatory policies of _Hale_ & _Argent_ public?”

“And you are?” Danny asked, cocking his head in an almost amused way when the woman blushed scarlet.

“ _Oh_! Oh, I’m sorry, my name is Kira Yukimura, I work for the ERC!” she exclaimed, as if that explained everything.

At the questioning glances on both men’s faces she blushed even further, hastily searching her bag for a business card.

“That’s Equal Rights for Carriers! The ERC I mean. We are …”

“I know what the ERC is, I visited your website frequently when I was trying to figure out if we could sue _Hale_ & _Argent_ for firing my friend here, I just don’t know what you want from us?” Stiles asked, though realization was dawning on his face and Kira smiled hesitantly, recognizing his interest.

“Well, I’m sure it’ll come as no surprise to you that _H_ & _A_ have been a concern of ours since the beginning days of the movement, since they are definitely one of the larger severely carrier-phobic companies out there. We haven’t been able to really do something about it until now, most of the guys who were wronged in the last decade or so just wanted to put the ordeal behind them and weren’t too keen on joining our movement, but I was thinking …”

She bit her lip, almost bouncing on her toes as she beamed at Stiles.

“I was thinking that maybe _you_ would be willing to join our cause and speak out? It is so rare that we find outraged non-carrier friends or family in these situations, sadly, most of the men who are wronged have a long history of that starting in their own homes, but with Mr. … uhm …”

“Danny,” Danny said, nodding at her with a much more open expression now as he rocked Nicky and Kira’s hand twitched at her side, as if she had just barely remembered that touching strangers’ babies was inappropriate.

“As I was saying, Danny’s just had the baby – he’s gorgeous, by the way – so this is all still very fresh. I could understand if you don’t want to get involved quite as much, you have a baby to look after, after all, but if your friend here were to speak out about what happened to you then maybe we could …”

“… reach a whole lot of people!” Stiles finished for her, eyes blazing now as he looked at Danny with a hopeful expression.

“That sounds … Dude, that sounds like it could actually do some real good! It wouldn’t hurt to try, at least. I’m not going to do it if you don’t want me to, but I’m not going to lie, I’d really …”

“It’s fine,” Danny said quickly, raising his eyebrow at his friend with a smile.

“You’d pester me about it until I said ‘yes’ anyways and when I was let go I signed no non-disclosure agreement. As far as I’m concerned you are free to share my treatment at _Hale_ & _Argent_ in all its discriminatory detail,” he decided, looking back down at Nicky when the baby made a soft sound.

“My dad will be _so_ excited!” Kira exclaimed, grinning when she grabbed Stiles’ hand and pumped it enthusiastically.

“He runs the organization, I can’t wait for you to meet him! He’ll share about a hundred embarrassing stories about my toddler years, but if you manage to sit through that you’ll have a friend for life in him!”

Stiles nodded, looking a little taken aback by the woman’s enthusiasm and Kira let go of his hand, once again smiling sheepishly.

“Anyways, you have my business card, we can set up a meeting whenever you want, the sooner we move on this the better I say. I have a good feeling about you, I really do, Mr. …”

“Stiles is fine,” Stiles supplied helpfully, grinning at her when she blushed again.

“Awesome, great, wonderful! I can’t wait to get started, I have a feeling this is the beginning of something really meaningful!”

She let go of the upper handrail to clap her hands together – and promptly landed on Stiles’ lap when the car came to a stop, almost braining him in the process.

“I am _so_ sorry! Oh god, this is my stop, I gotta run I …”

“Go ahead, I’ll make you get me an extra-large almond, white-chocolate mocha in reparation during our meeting,” Stiles told her, winking as she scrambled off of his lap and rushed out the door, almost tripping on the platform because she had been busy waving.

The doors closed and Stiles and Danny looked at each other for a moment before they simultaneously burst into laughter, all the tension because of the meeting with Derek gone.

“That was priceless!” Danny snorted, kissing the baby’s head when his son blinked up at him uncomprehendingly.

“Man, if Scotty wasn’t already dating Allison I’d so set them up on a date, their babies might be even more adorable than the dimpled angels of heaven he and Allison will produce one of these days. Don’t tell him I said that though, he’ll be upset.”

“My lips are sealed,” Danny swore solemnly, handing Nicky over to Stiles as he began to gather their stuff together for the upcoming arrival to their destination.

The subway arrived a minute later and Stiles gently placed Nicky in his carriage, smiling gratefully at the group of young people who had applauded earlier when they motioned to people to let the two men pass first.

“Well, I will say this, it was definitely one of our more memorable subway rides together,” Danny remarked as they lifted the carriage out of the train and Stiles smirked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Danny groaned and rolled his eyes in a way that looked like it hurt.

“Stop divulging the secrets about the wilder days of my past in front of my baby, I’m supposed to be an authority figure!”

Stiles laughed and then sighed right after; his good mood dimming somewhat when they walked past a large poster advertizing a staged reading by one of _Hale_ & _Argent_ ’s leading fantasy authors.

There were definitely days when he missed his job, especially the lunch breaks he had been able to take with his friends, the email spam wars he had fought with Erica, and the frequent trips down to Human Resources, where he had delighted in making up new and outrageous claims to have an excuse to spend time with Scott and Cora.

He was still able to see his friends, however, maybe not quite as much but more than enough to be grateful that he was no longer forced to watch his carrier friends suffer under the close-minded regime of Peter Hale and the Argent family.

And Derek … Stiles wasn’t going think about Derek any more than he absolutely had to.

The man had once again proven he was either as carrier-phobic as his sister and uncle or a spineless coward who didn’t care enough to stand up against the injustice, both of which were unforgiveable offenses in Stiles’ book.

So yes, if he had to think about Derek he would focus on the qualities that made him a horrible person and _not_ the stomach-dropping kisses, the gentle touches, or the soft look in his eyes that – and Danny was right, it was probably the worst thing Derek had done to him personally – had made Stiles entertain the notion of looking into them first thing in the morning and last thing at night on a long-term basis for the first time in a _very_ long time.

In all honesty, as far as Stiles was concerned Derek-Carriers-Are-Beneath-Me-Hale could take his soulful eyes and breathtaking smile and go screw himself.

Pining after someone whose personality he had never quite gotten the chance to explore was stupid anyhow.

He most definitely wasn’t going to spare a single thought about the pained grimace on the man’s face, the pale, unhealthy look of his skin or the lost expression in his red-rimmed eyes that spoke of little sleep and lots of worries.

He definitely wasn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional Thoughts:  
> Danny's attitude: The way I see it Danny has always been an extremely mellow, likable character in canon (they go as far as to say 'everyone loves Danny') and I believe he's very good at compartmentalizing. He's got his kid to focus on now and I think he'd be very opposed to having this special time be ruined by harboring dark thoughts all the time, hence his attempts to convince Stiles to tone down the aggression towards Derek. He's grateful that Stiles is going to join the fight for his rights and he's going to contribute from the background as much as he can, but his priority is his infant (extremely time-consuming in itself) and he's not ashamed of it, steadily holding his ground on that even when Stiles tries to get him to be more active (this won't be in the story, it's just some background I thought you might like to know). 
> 
> The name Kaiko is unisex and (according to Google), means 'sea with strong current'. I thought that was fitting. 
> 
> Doctor McCall: What can I say, the woman basically has 100 medical degrees and specializations in canon, figured OBGYN was the only thing that was missing. 
> 
> Next Update: Wednesday 04/15  
> Chapter Title: A Media Storm Is Coming (Weeks 12-14)  
> Chapter Summary: Derek has a meeting with the CEO board to discuss their response to Danny Mahealani's story going public and there's a little bit of drama at the ERC-Headquarters.


	6. A Media Storm Is Coming (Weeks 12-14)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek has a meeting with the CEO board to discuss their response to Danny Mahealani's story going public and there's a little bit of drama at the ERC-Headquarters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:
> 
> \- Talk about miscarriages (not Derek!) and fertility issues  
> \- Scott/Allison fans won't like me much at the end of this, but I'll explain myself in the End Note ;)

**_12 Weeks_ **

“You are looking quite adorable today boss!” Erica grinned as she floated into the office – Derek had programmed “Believe it or Not” as her new ringtone when she called, convinced that his assistant was definitely fitting the ‘walking on air’ description mentioned in the song ever since she had gotten engaged to Boyd – holding a steaming mug of coffee and a large stack of papers.

“Thank you … I think?” Derek replied, glancing down his body surreptitiously. The fit of his dress-shirt had seemed a bit off this morning and he wondered if Erica was once again commenting on his occasional wardrobe fails (to this day Derek maintained that men could wear thumbhole sweaters just fine, while Erica heatedly disagreed).

When he looked up again, Erica’s gaze was fixed on his face, however, and he frowned, trying to remember what he had had for breakfast that could have maybe left a residue.

“You’re all … freckly. As if you held your face into the sun for six hours straight freckly. It’s cute!” she explained and Derek turned towards the large window in his office, trying to catch his reflection to see what she meant.

“I didn’t go sunbathing, if that’s what you think,” Derek said casually, curiously touching the spots he now realized were dotted all across his skin. In fact, they reminded him of Stiles and he turned away from the window with a sigh, irritated at himself for thinking about the man _again_.

There was simply no use, regardless of what his subconscious seemed to think.

“I shall call you Derek Longstocking from now on,” Erica decided, setting both the mug and the stack of papers down on Derek’s desk.

“You do that and I shall call you Mr. Nilsson,” Derek responded and Erica shrugged, completely unfazed by being compared to a monkey.

“I _do_ like me some bananas,” she mused, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively and Derek groaned, reaching for his coffee and taking a careful sip.

“Too much information, _way_ too much information,” he informed his assistant, spitting the coffee back out carefully and eyeing it with a look of distaste.

“Oh come on Derek, really? That’s filthy-expensive fair-trade, hand-picked by happy hippos in Uganda coffee, I don’t know what else you want me to do!” Erica sighed, having watched him carefully while he had tasted the hot liquid.

Derek couldn’t quite understand the sudden aversion to coffee he had developed seemingly overnight a couple of weeks ago and since he was opposed to energy drinks on principle and refused to drink sodas if he could avoid it, Erica had tried various different brands, brews, and flavors in the past weeks.

He missed coffee, despite the fact that even the thought currently made him queasy, and he eyed the mug with a look of disappointment on his face.

“I’m sure someone is going to take offense to you throwing some happy hippos in there somewhere,” Derek said, pushing the cup away from him before the smell could actually get to him, having learned from a rather memorable incident two weeks ago.

“That they actually trained hippos to pick these beans is the _only_ justification for the price I paid,” Erica shrugged off his concern casually, eyes rolling into the back of her head with pleasure when she took a sip herself.

“Just so you know, I’m taking that bag home and I’m going to be late for work for as long as this taste-orgasmic creation serves as my wake-up coffee,” she informed him sweetly and Derek rolled his eyes.

“What I’m going to take out of your pay as a late-fee is going to be the exact number you’ll need for buying a new pack,” he said agreeably and Erica sighed.

“It was worth a try.”

Derek had a meeting half an hour later about the addition of a chat-room to the website that would be used to host Author Q&As with some of the more prolific writers under contract at _Hale & Argent _(Peter thought it was a brilliant plan, Derek could already imagine the lewd comments and inappropriate pictures vividly) and by the time it was over he had missed lunch.

As he walked back to his office he made a quick stop into the men’s room, examining his face in the mirror and wondering how he had missed the dark spots on his face earlier this morning.

Granted, there weren’t that many – and if there were, his beard covered up most of them – but they were definitely visible and Derek shrugged it off, thinking about the freckles he had used to get when he had been a small child.

When he got back to his office, Erica was already waiting with a grilled chicken salad, a bottle of grape Gatorade and, to Derek’s annoyance, the shot-kit.

“You are looking more awake than you have in a while at this time of day,” Erica commented, slender fingers already preparing the injection.

“Not for long I will,” Derek grumbled, aware that he was acting like a baby but not quite able or willing to help it.

He did feel quite good today, a nice change from the extended bout of winter exhaustion and sickliness he had been battling since the end of January and he was reluctant to take the shot again; even more so than usual.

The last one hadn’t quite been as bad as the one that had led to the migraine-like headache back in February, but instead of just making him sleepy, as usual, it had actually knocked him out for almost six hours and he had felt like a zombie when Erica had finally managed to rouse him, muttering “Supposed to be an example at the workplace,” under her breath but looking quite concerned.

“Let’s just get it over with,” he sighed, ignoring Erica’s cheerful “Attaboy!” as she disinfected his arm.

This time she had brought a Dora the Explorer Band-Aid, proudly on display through the somewhat see-through material of Derek’s dress-shirt and he swore, lamenting that no one would take him seriously with Dora the Explorer’s face peeking at them from his arm.

Erica coughed delicately.

“Uhm, boss? Since we’re talking about this hot little see-through number you’re wearing already … I don’t think _Dora_ is going to be the problem,” she said, sighing exasperatedly and gesturing towards her cleavage when Derek stared at her blankly.

Eyebrows still set in “I have no idea what the hell you are talking about”-mode Derek continued to stare at her and Erica huffed.

“Don’t make me say it boss, I don’t want to be sent to HR for sexual harassment,” she whined, gesturing towards her breasts once again and Derek, who failed to see what Erica’s breasts had to do with his shirt shrugged helplessly, letting out a surprised yelp when Erica leaned over his desk and poked her finger into his chest, wincing as she brushed against his once again rather sore nipples on accident.

Confused, Derek looked down, only to blush beet-red when he realized what Erica had been trying to tell him.

The shirt was indeed very see-through, so see-through in fact, that he had apparently been flashing everyone his nipples all day, which seemed to be a lot darker than usual today and were actually highlighted by the white shirt.

“If it’s any consolation boss, Boyd texted me from your meeting and said he thought they looked very perky and sexy,” Erica supplied helpfully, patting his hair when Derek moaned unhappily and let his head drop onto his desk.

“I’m a Fail Boss,” he muttered into the stack of papers and Erica chuckled.

“There there, it happens to the best of us.”

Groaning, Derek swatted her hands away and Erica laughed loudly as she exited the office, leaving Derek with a lunch that he was no longer in the mood for but ate anyway, because the next item on his schedule was a meeting with Peter, Chris, Laura, _and_ Kate and there was just no way he was going to sit through that with an empty stomach.

It was a life-choice he came to regret not even half an hour later, when his stomach turned into a pool of acid, making him wonder if he was turning into an old man all of a sudden.

Not even _Peter_ had heartburn, it was absolutely ridiculous.

With the way his life was going these days it was almost a given that there was no heartburn remedy to be found anywhere in his drawers and when he went to look for Erica his assistant had disappeared on her mid-afternoon break, also known as code for ‘smooching with the fiancé.’

She had left her purse, however, and Derek was almost in enough discomfort to look through it on his quest to find some Tums, but he refrained, certain that the pain would pale in comparison to the mental agony inspired by whatever he would find in Erica’s purse.

Not that he had ever stuck his nose in there, unlike his sisters he did value other people’s privacy after all, but Erica had told him things and 99 percent of them were things that Derek had yet to successfully ban from his brain.

Therefore, he was in a rather grumpy mood when he entered the conference room half an hour later, his suit jacket perhaps a little too hot for the warm, multi-windowed room that allowed for extra heating through sunlight, but determined not to flash his proudly displayed nipples to his sister or Kate of all people.

Peter was already in a heated discussion with Chris, the two of them looking at each other like they weren’t quite sure if they wanted to kill or screw one another, as usual, and Derek sank down into his seat, resting his eyes for a moment as he halfheartedly tried to listen to the argument across the table.

“Rise and shine Der-Bear!” Laura chirped happily as she sat down next to him and Derek huffed, then winced when the pain in his chest flared up again.

“Rise and shine my _ass_ ,” he snapped, feeling bad for the outburst immediately when Laura leaned back, obviously surprised.

“Shot-day?” she asked, tone surprisingly compassionate and Derek sighed, nodding in confirmation.

He was about to reply verbally when Kate Argent sauntered into the room, shutting him up effectively.

He had no desire for Kate to have access to any sort of private information about him anymore, especially after the horrid way in which their relationship had ended two years ago.

Inevitably she sat down on Derek’s other side, seemingly incapable of choosing one of the five other free seats around the room and Derek pointedly turned towards Laura, ignoring his sister’s exasperated expression at his display, which he knew she considered to be childish.

It bothered him, but then again Laura had never heard the whole story about the events that had led Derek to finally break up with Kate, and he intended for it to stay that way, not even able to imagine the look of disdain or – worse – pity on her face.

“Well then, shall we get started?” Peter said loudly and when he had gotten the attention he desired he clicked on the pointer, pulling up the first slide of a presentation on the screen across the room.

“This would be the reason for the meeting,” he said without preamble and Derek’s eyes widened as he looked at the screen, while Laura let out a loud groan next to him and Kate snickered.

“It seems that we have once again come under attack from our dear friends down at Equal Rights for Carriers, only this time they have decided to take it to a personal level,” Chris explained, indicating for Peter to move to the next slide.

“I believe you remember Danny Mahealani, Derek?” Peter asked, and Derek nodded, eyes glued to the screen, which now showed a photo of Mahealani, his husband, and the baby, obviously taken just shortly after the birth.

“It seems that the lovely folks at ERC have made Mahealani their new poster-boy for job-discrimination, emphasizing how he and his husband lost their apartment from one day to the other because they no longer had two incomes and would have ended up homeless had they not been taken in by friends. Now, obviously we are going to fire back at them by making it very clear that Mahealani’s contract clearly stated that he would be terminated upon getting pregnant and that hiding it for as long as he did was a clear violation of these terms, but all the liberal media is going to run with is the image of a heavily pregnant, homeless man faced with the threat of giving birth in the streets. There’s no need to say that the majority of people in this country will be in support of us, but the spineless moderate population, those that couldn’t care less, might be swayed by Mahealani’s sob-story and we need to come up with a response,” Peter continued, making eye-contact with everyone in the room and lingering on Derek for a second.

“Also,” he added, a rather unpleasant sneer on his face, “based on what my sources tell me Mahealani will only be a secondary player in this new propaganda campaign, officially to focus on his new baby and cast him as the freaking father of the year. Instead, a friend of his is scheduled to appear on the news tonight to fight for the rights of his poor, woe-is-me freak of nature buddy. Some guy who used to work for us but resigned shortly after we had Mahealani fired, a First Name Completely Unpronounceable Stilinski …”

“Stiles,” Derek muttered as the man’s face appeared on the next slide, not surprised when his temples began to throb, though he was partly sure it was because of the earlier shot.

“You know him?” Chris asked, his eyes cool and calculating.

“A fleeting acquaintance,” Derek answered, kicking against Laura’s shin in warning when his older sister let out a very loud snort.

“Oh you have to be _kidding_ me!” Kate snapped, turning towards Derek and fixing him with a judgmental expression.

“You fucked _that_?”

Derek glared back, his voice icy as he replied, “Well, I fucked _you_ , didn’t I? From where I’m standing my standards actually improved!”

“Children, children, children,” Peter admonished, his voice stern but his eyes twinkling with gleeful amusement.

Derek resolutely turned his head away, staring at the wall behind Chris’ head with a grimace as he rubbed at the top of his stomach, willing the acidic feeling to just go away already.

Peter cleared his throat and when Derek looked towards his uncle the man’s expression was … suspicious.

All in all, it made just as much sense as anything these days.

“Alright here’s what we’re going to do,” his uncle continued, his eyes never leaving Derek as he rubbed the tips of his fingers against each other, choosing each word carefully.

“We are going to wait for this first official interview, see what angle they are going to use, how they are going to frame their story. As soon as they’ve shown us their cards we’ll issue a statement citing our right for freedom of opinion and the non-existence of carrier-protection rights. We won’t go into detail as to why we fired Mahealani, we’ll just remind everyone he broke his contract. We’ll keep it ideology-free for now, I would hate to give those freaks at the ERC more of our time than we absolutely have to, honestly. And if they continue to push forward we’ll choose a further course of action,” he concluded, nodding when Chris made a sound of approval.

“We should fire all of those filthy carriers and be done with the whole issue,” Kate muttered and Laura snorted again, this time in obvious agreement.

Derek cringed, though whether it was because of the burning sensation in his throat or his sister’s willful ignorance he wasn’t quite sure.

“Oh and one more thing,” Kate added, a nasty smile on her face.

“Chris, were you aware that one of the two people Mahealani and his husband are staying with right now is Scott McCall?” she asked, and Chris groaned, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Shit,” he said flatly and Kate nodded.

“The other one happens to be that Stilinski guy, which explains why he’s wasting his time for these people, he probably has a kink for boys with girl parts. Only he’s already left the company so we won’t have to deal with him. Dear Scotty-boy though … well, I’m sure we can agree that we can’t have a guy who is clearly aiding Mahealani in targeting our company work for us anymore, am I right?” she continued and once again Chris groaned loudly.

“He’s Allison’s boyfriend Kate,” he protested and his sister shrugged, expression turning even colder.

“All the more reason for us to fire him, Allison has been hanging around these people enough as it is, it’s about time that girl goes and finds herself a real man. Don’t you remember him proudly telling us that his _mommy_ is one of the leading carrier-OBGYN specialists in the city? Pussy-boys, even those without the appropriate parts!”

Derek clenched his hands into fists, short nails biting into his skin as he stared at the table, forcing himself to stay calm.

This was why Stiles resented him; this was proving Stiles’ theory right that he was, according to his reluctant informant Cora, a spineless coward without the guts to stand up for what was right.

Peter was still staring at him though, the look on his uncle’s face so cold it was almost terrifying and Derek just … couldn’t do it, certain that whatever Peter’s reaction would be it would be ugly.

When Chris called an end to the meeting he stood up immediately, only to groan when Peter called out, “A word Derek?”, clearly expecting him to stay behind.

“Peter,” Derek sighed when everyone had gone and Peter leaned forward on his chair, arms placed flat on the table in what Derek figured was probably meant to be an open and welcoming way.

“Derek, my favorite nephew, I obviously hate to have to ask you this, seeing how you and my dear nieces are still my dearly departed sister’s innocent babies and the apples of my eyes, but since this situation looks like it could get ugly really soon I do have to know. Did you or didn’t you?”

Derek blinked, unsure what his uncle wanted to hear.

“Did I do what?” he asked, frowning when Peter’s expression turned from fake jovial to calculating.

“Did _you_ fuck him?”

Sometimes Derek absolutely hated the fact that his ears were so prone to blushing, the tips almost burning as he stared at Peter defiantly.

“Oh don’t be such a _girl_ about it, did you or didn’t you?” Peter snapped and Derek narrowed his eyes, partly offended and partly confused why Peter was feeling the need to resort to these kinds of misogynist insults.

“If you absolutely must know, yes, I did,” he gritted out between his teeth, shaking his head in growing confusion when Peter’s shoulders slumped in obvious relief.

“I see,” he said, voice almost back to his usual sneering amusement.

“So in your opinion, is that going to be a problem? Is he going to start whining and bitching that you _gave_ it to him like a man and then dumped his carrier-friendly ass when you realized how twisted his thinking was?”

Derek gaped, torn between mortification and shock.

Was his uncle actually being serious right now?

 _If anything_ , _I **took** it like a man_.

The words were on the tip of his tongue and Derek almost lost his control, entertaining the thought of his uncle’s twisted, downright misogynist, and severely close-minded brain exploding for an almost amusing second, before pressing his lips tightly together, something inside him telling him to just stay silent.

“We … we didn’t part on good terms,” he said coldly and Peter nodded, apparently not having expected anything else.

“Well, let’s hope he’ll keep it classy and not mention it, because that’s going to be water on the mills of our opponents if …”

He broke off, smiling like a snake and taking a large gulp of his wineglass and Derek frowned, wondering if he had just missed something important.

“Peter?” he asked but Peter shook his head, motioning towards the door with an impatient expression.

“I have a meeting with that lunatic Finstock in twenty and I intend to be as shit-faced as I possibly can before I subject myself to listening to more of his passive-aggressive whining about his entire department falling apart because I had his best worker fired,” he explained and Derek nodded curtly, grateful to leave his deranged relative to the comforts of his wine-glass.

Erica was still gone when he returned to his office and because the pain in his chest was still so uncomfortable that he would be unable to concentrate he decided to raid her desk for some tums, hoping that his ever-dependable assistant would have a remedy on hand.

She did, as well as a rather impressive set of handcuffs and some colorful nipple-clamps and as he collapsed on the couch in his office to wait for the medication to kick in, Derek’s last thought before falling asleep was that karma was apparently a very kinky bitch.

****

**_14 Weeks_ **

“You were great last night Stiles, I thoroughly enjoyed myself!”

“ _Dad_!” Kira cried, looking embarrassed when her father, completely oblivious to the accidental sexual innuendos he had been bestowing upon Stiles ever since their initial meeting, when he had informed the younger man that the movement simply needed more men like him who were willing to “stand at attention” at all times, clapped a hand on Stiles’ shoulder.

Stiles grinned sheepishly, used to Mr. Yukimura’s often-unintended endeavors to mortify his only chick and child into an early grave.

“Your dad is right, I was _very_ good!” he grinned, sinking down into the comfortable couch in the ERC headquarters, a coffee cup filled with raspberry white chocolate mocha clutched in his hands.

“Pretty sure Kate Argent was about to go suck on a lemon,” Aiden agreed, looking up from where he had been trying to play peek-a-boo with his six weeks old nephew, despite his brother’s gentle reminders that the baby wasn’t even anywhere close to that developmental stage yet.

Ethan’s twin brother had just gotten back to the States after an extended stint abroad for what he claimed had been ‘educational purposes’.

He had immediately jumped at the chance to help the ERC out when Stiles had joined, still feeling guilty he hadn’t been there when all hell had broken loose in January.

He had undergone the same public speaking training as Stiles had, but Mr. Yukimura had quickly decided that Stiles would be handling any possible camera engagements that had to do with Danny’s case, noting that Aiden’s personality, while not terribly off-putting, was definitely too snarky to get popularity points with audiences.

Not that Stiles couldn’t be snarky, too, but where Aiden seemed arrogant Stiles somehow managed to pull off charming, which was exactly what the battered ERC campaign needed.

After that first successful interview two weeks ago Stiles had attended a long-planned lecture at NYU and his former employers had responded to the ERC’ claims of discrimination based on a deep-seated misogyny by sending out Kate Argent to publicly demonstrate that the company’s distaste of male carriers had nothing to do with their uteruses per se.

It was a strategy that had tanked spectacularly last night, when Stiles had faced off against her during an interview on Fox news, weathering not only the clearly conservative-leaning moderator’s snarky questions but also Kate Argent’s passive-aggressive snipping.

Stiles wasn’t quite sure why Kate Argent had seemed intent on biting his head off before he had even uttered his first word, though Cora had hesitantly alluded to his short fling with Derek possibly being a factor.

Stiles had simply refused to think about that further, the idea that he had slept with a man who had bedded someone as twisted as Kate Argent angering him even more.

As it was, Kate Argent had completely lost her cool last night, and memes and gif-sets were already circulating tumblr and twitter, a favorite of Stiles being a screenshot of Kate looking like she had indeed just bitten into a lemon, juxtaposed with a picture of an actual baby biting into a lemon for the first time.

There was also a gif-set out there and it was neither aiding their cause nor in any way politically relevant, but Stiles was certain he would forever smile just by thinking about it.

He had tried pestering Danny into circulating the same screenshot with the caption, “We might hate babies but we sure act like them,” but Danny had just shaken his head, arguing that someone was bound to come up with it sooner or later.

His thoughts were interrupted when Nicky cooed and Stiles could practically see Kira melt into gooey honey right next to him, once again almost making him regret that she and Scott would never have babies.

And yes, shipping them so hard made him feel guilty about Allison, but the similarities between them, especially in their complete and utter puppy-dog adoration for the baby, were simply too perfect not to.

“Carrier-baby pride!” Kira gushed when she bent over the bouncer, gently picking up Nicky’s hand and pressing her palm against it in the imitation of a high-five.

Nicky smacked his lips, which Stiles assumed was agreement.

He had been fascinated to learn about the Yukimuras’ family history, the hardships they had faced, and the reasons that had led them to found the movement, back when hardly anyone had dared to speak out for carrier rights.

Kira’s mother Noshiko had been in her mid-forties when she had met Ken, a young teacher barely graduated from college.

Against the judgmental glares of both of their families they had gotten married, both of them eager to start their family and crushed when, after two years of trying and a miscarriage, a sympathetic doctor had gently but firmly explained to them that Noshiko would no longer be able to have children.

Ken Yukimura had been silent for most of the appointment, startling his wife when he had suddenly asked, “But what about her eggs?” and when the frowning doctor had cautiously replied that there was a chance the eggs could still be fertilized Ken had pulled his recently issued identity card with the red C out of his wallet, voice firm as he had asked how much it would cost to fertilize the egg with his sperm and then have it implanted into his own uterus.

The doctor had reacted rather close-mindedly and it had taken Kira’s parents almost ten months to finally find a fertility specialist who was willing to perform the procedure.

Noshiko had spent her life-savings on the IVF-process and by the time Ken was finally pregnant with Kira they had had to sell their house and Ken had lost his job, forcing them to live in a tiny apartment that was barely enough for two people, let alone two people and a baby.

They had made it work though, withstanding the looks on the street, the sneers, the taunts, even the occasional person spitting at the expectant father as his pregnancy had become more and more visible.

When they had found themselves evicted from their apartment on the night they had brought Kira home from the hospital they had taken a deep breath, staring at each other, then at the baby sleeping peacefully in Noshiko’s arms, then at the taped up door with their meager belongings sitting in front of it, and they had both promised each other to fight, for their family and for other carriers, who would continue to face this struggle.

They had hidden the truth about Kira’s birth for a while, moving out of the city and settling down in a small town, just affordable enough for them to live in a decent-sized apartment and for Ken to continue teaching, while Noshiko, who had given up her museum curator job temporarily to care for the daughter she had never thought she would have, spent her free-time researching everything she could about the situation of carriers worldwide.

When Kira had been 15 they had moved back to the city and thanks to a generous donation by a former carrier-benefactor of the museum they had been able to start the ERC.

In the ten years since Kira had become a rather public figure in the fight for carrier-rights, her reputation as a well-adjusted carrier-baby, her beauty that defied all stereotypes attached to carrier-born girls, and her adorable personality opening doors that had previously been closed and Stiles was grateful that Nicky would grow up with someone like her, someone who could prove to him every single day that being a carrier-baby did not make him any less worthy, despite what society thought.

He was also glad that Danny had Ken Yukimura to talk to, even though listening to the two of them compare experiences usually made his heart ache.

Of course there were also the moments when Kira’s father, oblivious to the embarrassed faces around him, earnestly shared tips on how to best shrink one’s uterus after birth, going as far as to self-demonstrate to a mortified Ethan how he should engage in some gentle nipple-play with Danny to release uterus-contracting-hormones.

Stiles probably could have done without that particular tidbit of information, but the sight of a startled, squawking Jackson dropping his coffee-mug and staining his filthy expensive white Gucci pants beyond repair while his completely flustered best friend had buried his head against Ethan’s shoulder with a loud groan had definitely made the top five of his most favorite memories ever.

The Yukimuras were also quickly making the number three spot on his list of all-time favorite parents, following his own father and Melissa McCall, who had been like a mother to him since he had been eight, and his appreciation of them grew exponentially for the way they handled the heart-ache of his best friend.

They were still discussing the interview and whether or not Kate would ever be sent out to defend _Hale_ & _Argent_ again when the door suddenly slammed open and Scott stumbled inside, his cheeks flushed with anger and his lips wobbling, looking like he was about to burst into tears.

“Scott? What’s wrong?” Stiles exclaimed, jumping up and finding himself pulled into a tight hug almost immediately when Scott threw his arms around him and pressed his face against his shoulder with a choked sob.

“Scotty? You’re scaring me, what happened?” Stiles asked frantically, his heart clenching when he felt the fabric of his shirt dampening.

Scott was an over-excited puppy by default and he rarely cried, so the few times that Stiles had seen his best friend lost control like that had always been tied to something truly heartbreaking and terrible.

Scott took a rattling breath, rubbing his face against Stiles’ shirt to wipe away his tears and when he pulled back his eyes were brimming with anger.

“They _fired_ me! They fucking fired me! And Allison just … she just _stood there without saying anything_!”

Scott sounded deeply betrayed and Stiles bit his lip, barely able to suppress his anger.

“I …” he began, intending to offer Scott comfort for no longer having to work in the shithole that was _H &A_ and trying to see the silver lining, but Scott interrupted him, his chest heaving as he spat out the words.

“She sided with _them_! I know she was ambivalent about the whole thing and it bothered me, she knows it bothered me that she wasn’t willing to stand up against her family for Danny, but this is _us_! We want to get married, we want to have _children_! I can’t have children with someone who is going to choose her intolerant relatives over our own family, I can’t …”

Stiles had counseled Scott through many an almost-break-up with Allison, but as he looked into Scott’s eyes now he was startled to realize how hurt his friend was, how deeply shaken in his trust in a way he had never been before.

“Scotty, you’re … you should calm down, ok, we can talk about all of this when you’ve calmed down a little, you shouldn’t …”

“ _Children_! What about our children?” Scott wailed, promptly bursting into fresh tears as he dropped down onto the couch.

Stiles stared helplessly, not sure how to respond to a side of Scott he had never seen, not even when his father had left, and while he was still opening and closing his mouth in shock Kira’s parents jumped into action.

Within seconds Scott was bracketed between them, and when Mr. Yukimura gently stroked his fingers through his hair Scott just flopped over, curling up into a ball and sniffling into the older man’s shirt.

Noshiko was stroking his back and when she mouthed for Kira to go make tea Stiles almost laughed, still too shell-shocked to know how to react to his best friend’s breakdown.

“Does he … do that a lot?” Aiden whispered to Ethan, looking chagrined when his twin shook his head with a frown and Stiles wasn’t even a little bit surprised when his phone vibrated with a text from Allison.

 _Scott just took off; do you know where he is_?

Stiles stared at the screen for a while before he put it back into his pocket, deciding to let her worry for now.

It wasn’t his nicest moment, for sure, but he had never seen Scott like this and his best friend needed someone to be in his corner now, that much he knew without a doubt.

“Do you want some tea?” Kira asked hesitantly, crouching down in front of her father and Scott with a steaming mug of herbal lemon-tea and one tearful eye blinked at her through shaggy hair, clearly undecided.

“It’s really good,” Kira soothed gently, holding out the mug to Scott when he untangled himself from her father and wiped his sleeve across his nose with a soft sniff.

“Thank you,” he snuffled and yes, Mr. Yukimura definitely looked ready to adopt his best friend, Stiles was pretty sure, the look on his face strongly resembling that of his daughter, who also looked at Scott like she had found the most loving, sensitive, and caring man in the entire universe.

Stiles’ phone vibrated again but he ignored it, making his way over to the couch and replacing Noshiko, wrapping his arm around Scott’s shoulder.

The crying outburst seemed to have cleared Scott’s mind somewhat and when Kira replaced her father on Scott’s other side he even smiled shyly, gratefully accepting the comforting touch of her hand smoothing across his hair.

As he watched Scott slowly calm down under Kira’s gentle ministrations Stiles was sure of three things:

  1.      His best friend would be just fine.
  2.      _Hale_ & _Argent_ was going to burn in a fiery circle of hell and he would be glad to send them there
  3.      Kira and Scott would make the most adorable babies on the planet – no doubt about it



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional Comments:
> 
> \- Scott and Allison ... if you've ever read my Alliteration Verse you will know that I'm not opposed to Scallison on principle and I don't dislike the character, either, but I got started on that Verse when I didn't know Kira's character yet and well ... I ship Scira more, it's pretty simple. So I figured since Scallison had a family in the Alliteration Verse (where I still don't know if Kira will ever show up because I don't really know how to tie her in) it was ok if I don't pair them up in all of my fan fics.
> 
> \- Allison is acting canonically in regards to most of Season 2, when her grandfather was able to mess with her head a little. Not that she's about to go and shoot Derek or something, nor is she carrier-phobic, but her family has a pull on her that she can't really remove herself from, leading to her not doing anything when Scott was fired. And I'm pretty sure that a guy as principled as Scott is wouldn't have stayed with her after something like that, so I'm afraid to say for this story Scallison is over and long live Scira - eventually. 
> 
> \- Allison is not going to be the new villain and she'll have her redemption moment ... it'll just be a little while. 
> 
> \- I really like the Yukimuras and figured I'd give them a kick-ass backstory.
> 
>  
> 
> Next Update: Friday, 04/17  
> Chapter Title: The First Debate  
> Chapter Summary: Derek's starting to experience the first outward changes of his condition and finds himself resorting to a rather low blow to win the first debate against Stiles.


	7. The First Debate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek experiences the first physical changes of his condition and then finds himself resorting to a low blow to win the first ill-advised debate against Stiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING for this chapter:
> 
> \- A bit of fat-shaming in the beginning: I tried to keep it as minimal as possible, but within this context a bit of it can't be avoided I'm afraid.

**_16 Weeks_ **

“Is it just me or is your boss getting a bit chubby Erica?” Jackson commented, squinting at the television as he took another sip of his beer.

“Keep that up Whittemore and _you’ll_ be the one getting chubby in no time!” Erica fired back, eyeing Jackson’s beer pointedly before she turned back to the screen herself.

“I think it’s just the angle, my face looks fuller, too, depending on which side of my face is more dominant in the picture,” Scott mused and Isaac, who was sitting next to him on the floor, nodded.

“Yeah, mine too,” he agreed, grabbing a pillow and throwing it at Jackson when he muttered “Fat chance Diamond-Cutter-Chin.”

“I don’t think he looks chubby at all, his face is just a bit fuller, but you can’t really tell either way because of the beard,” Allison thought out loud, flashing Scott an almost apologetic glance.

The atmosphere between the former lovers was still very tense, the result of a bitter break-up that, everyone was certain, would take a while to heal completely.

In the aftermath of Scott being unceremoniously let go from the company while Allison had done nothing to stop it despite being influential in the legal department, there had been three fights: one a tear-filled screaming match, the second one a short-lived row that had ended with Scott slamming his fist against the table and actually cracking it and a stunned Allison leaving the apartment without another word, and one even more tear-filled calm discussion, at the end of which Allison and Scott had mutually agreed that the trust between them was too broken to ever be repaired.

Scott was handling the situation better than anyone would have expected and because of that Lydia had firmly declared herself to be in Allison’s corner for the foreseeable future, calmly explaining to a sputtering Stiles that yes, Allison could have possibly done something about this given that her family owned half of the company, but that it was also unfair of him to expect Allison to risk losing her family over a man who, quite obviously, hadn’t been ‘it’ for her after all.

Stiles had grudgingly admitted surrender, though he had marked the day down in his calendar, making a note that he had _finally_ found a flaw in Lydia.

The fact that she was right did not factor into this finding whatsoever.

Meanwhile, as Lydia’s best friend Allison had special rights to attend group outings and even though Stiles would have gladly kept the former lovers from seeing each other indefinitely, or at least until they had both finished licking their wounds, he understood that he couldn’t well deprive Allison of her entire circle of friends on top of the demise of her first real relationship.

Allison and Scott had determined to be as adult as possible about the situation and Stiles had simply accepted that he would be buying large cartons of Ben and Jerry’s for the foreseeable future, a treat that came in quite handy when being adult didn’t quite work out for his best friend.

“He probably ate lots of chocolate to come to terms with the fact that he fucked things up with Stiles and is now realizing that it was _the_ missed opportunity of his life,” Scott mumbled, moving out of the way quickly when Cora, who had just entered the living room of Stiles and Scott’s apartment, kicked at him.

“Derek doesn’t like chocolate _and_ Derek didn’t fuck up things with Stiles. _I_ fucked up because I thought it would be a great idea to have the two hook up right after Derek had to fire one of his best friends,” she said, sounding resigned as she sank onto the couch next to Lydia.

“Not _this_ again,” Lydia groaned, nodding towards the kitchen, where Stiles and Ethan had just appeared in the doorframe, trays of food balanced precariously on their arms and followed by Danny, who was carrying Nicky.

“Not what again?” Stiles asked, narrowly avoiding spilling the cheese-dip all over Isaac’s curly locks as he walked over to the couch table.

“Nothing,” Cora said quickly, at the same time as Jackson announced, “Derek’s getting pudgy!” following it up with a loud “Ouch!” and staring at Lydia balefully.

His girlfriend didn’t so much as blink.

“Fat-shaming people with completely healthy weights is the reason so many young women – and _men_ – have body image issues,” she said stiffly, nodding at Cora in acknowledgement when the younger woman clapped her hands.

“Besides, my brother isn’t getting pudge _or_ chubby, he’s just had a bit of an issue with his monthly shots for his blood-disease lately, if anything it’s just water-bloating,” Cora explained, making a grab for the nacho bowl and taking the cheese-dip hostage in one go.

“And even if he was, that would be his deal and no one else’s,” she added after some thought, glaring at Jackson when he shook his head with a smirk.

“Can we stop talking about my boss’ weight now, please. He goes to the gym like four times a week and I see him everyday, I’d notice if something were off. Enough!” Erica exclaimed, while Boyd nodded next to her, a non-plussed expression on his face.

“Can we stop talking about Derek Hale period, _thank you_ ,” Scott added quickly, gently nudging against Stiles’ shoulder, who had sat down next to his best friend and was staring at the television with a grim expression.

“Look at them! Hateful bigots, all of them. Peter Hale probably has a carrier-born child stashed away somewhere who is exactly like him, which is why he despised the child without realizing _that’s_ the problem and not that it’s carrier-born. There is no way anyone can be that defensive and hateful without personal reasons,” Stiles spat, frowning when the image switched to a blonde reporter, who once again recounted the highlights of the press conference members of the Hale and Argent families had attended earlier in the day to respond to the ERC’s latest protest against a young carrier being fired earlier that week simply because he had been overhead discussing the possibility of trying for a baby soon on the phone with his husband during his lunch-break.

Cora snorted.

“Sorry to burst your bubble there, but I’m like 99.9 percent sure that my uncle has been having passionate hate-sex with Chris Argent every time they disagree about something for over a decade now, and Chris is definitely not a carrier. With the rate they disagree on things Allison would have had five siblings already if either of them was,” she said, shooting Allison a grin when the brunette groaned and covered her ears with her hands.

“He does look a bit puffier since the last time I saw him, they switched his medication you said?” Danny asked from the armchair, his attention divided between feeding Nicky and watching the newscast.

“Who, Peter? Peter’s always puffed up on something, usually his own big ego,” Cora supplied distractedly, her attention focused on the cheese dip, and Danny shook his head.

“Nah, I meant Derek,” he clarified and before Cora could answer or Lydia could launch into another fat-shaming rant, Stiles threw his hands up in frustration.

“He looks, as usual, positively fuckable, and if things were different I’d just want to sit on his face, puffy or not, can we _please_ stop talking about Derek and his body, I beg you!” he exclaimed in frustration, huffing, “It’s your own damn fault,” when Cora stuck her fingers in her ears and hummed, “La, la, la!”

“You people are hopelessly shallow,” Boyd muttered, getting up to grab another bottle of white wine from the fridge.

When he returned with two full glasses for Erica and himself, Erica was studying the television screen again, her face scrunched up in concentration.

“That horrid shirt does make him look a bit thicker than he is,” she mused, mentally going through Derek’s entire wardrobe as she sipped at her glass.

“Ah well, I’ll make sure he wears something more flattering when he goes on _Larry King_ tomorrow evening, just to be on the safe side,” she decided, flinching when Stiles’ head whipped around so quickly that it looked painful.

“Hold on a second – _I’m_ going on _Larry King_ tomorrow evening!” he exclaimed and Cora winced, looking at him apologetically.

“Yeah, about that,” she began, sighing when Stiles pulled out his phone and fired off a heated message to Kira.

“Why wasn’t I told about this, I thought I … I thought I was going to debate with Peter!” he barked and Cora snorted again, obviously imagining it.

“It’s a brilliant Laura plan. Our mistress of publicity has, in all her wisdom, decided that as the hottest guy out of the bunch Derek should handle the talk-shows from now on, especially after what we’ve not so secretly been referring to as the Katetastrophy around the office ever since Fox News. And besides, surveys showed earlier this week that people just don’t respond well to Peter at all, so despite the power of his v-neck we couldn’t well let him continue _sullying_ the family-name on live television” she explained, mock-saluting Stiles with her own wine-glass.

Scott grunted in disapproval.

“Why doesn’t the Wicked Witch of the West do it herself, as head of publicity and all?” he asked, rubbing Stiles’ arm comfortingly when his best friend buried his head between his hands and Cora sighed long-sufferingly.

“Because she’s a _woman_? The issue is about male carriers, not pregnant women, why would a woman’s word carry any weight in this? It’s as if guys would suddenly go on record and sprout a bunch of nonsense about menstruation, not nearly as effective as when a woman does it. I know people use misogynist language when they talk about carriers but just because they fail to understand that male carriers are first and foremost – gender-fluidity excluded – _men_ , no matter what they can do with their privates. However, just because the opposition doesn’t get that doesn’t mean we have to make the same mistake. And besides, we tried Kate first and you saw how that turned out,” she explained..

“Based on that logic, what sense does it make to have a non-carrier talk about carriers?” Lydia countered and this time it was Boyd who answered.

“Doesn’t matter, he’s still a man so, technically he could be a potential carrier, even if he isn’t. You know what I mean? It’s all about the visuals in people’s heads. There’s no way for a woman to ever physically become a _male_ carrier,” he said, holding his hands up in a “What do I know” expression when Scott and Lydia frowned at him as if to say, “There’s no way for a _non-_ carrier to become a carrier either.”

“So you think that people are going to imagine Derek all knocked up when he argues against carrier rights? That seems kind of … weird? Besides, he’d probably be one of those who wouldn’t show at all right until they are wheeled into the delivery ward, there’s no chance that six pack would give way for anything, not even a kid. No offense Danny, you looked really adorable,” Jackson commented, studiously taking a sip of his beer and ignoring Lydia’s muttered, “My boyfriend spends way too much time thinking about Derek Hale’s body and it makes me … wonder,” as she suggestively grinned in Aiden’s direction.

“Can we get back to the crisis at hand? I don’t want to debate _Derek_! I don’t even want to _see_ Derek!” Stiles exclaimed and Cora rubbed her hands over her eyes with a soft grunt.

“Pretty sure he can imagine greater things as well,” she muttered, shrugging when Stiles gave her a wounded look.

“The last time I saw him he looked so disgusted it seemed like he was about to puke all over me. It’s going to be a disaster, mark my words!”

“Derek spent almost a week puking out his guts at the beginning of March courtesy of the stomach bug of hell I schlepped in from the Caribbean. I’m sure he was just reminiscing fondly and it didn’t have anything to do with you at all,” Erica mused, patting Boyd’s head fondly when her fiancé groaned in less than fond reminiscence.

“Did you want to join in the conversation, too, baby boy? You’re so smart,” Danny interrupted, handing a freshly burped Nicky over to Ethan and inspecting the spit-up on his shirt with a rueful grimace.

Stiles made grabby hands for the baby, cuddling him close and pressing his nose against his soft hair when Ethan obliged him.

“Help me Nicky-Wan Kenobi, you’re my only source of happiness right now,” he muttered, ignoring the amused huffs of laughter around him and focusing on the confused look on Scott’s face.

“Watch _Star Wars_ already, I beg you,” Stiles pleaded, his mood improving as he watched Nicky’s attempts at imitating his father’s dimpled smile.

“I’m going to go out there tonight and fight the big bad wolf for _you_ , you know that, right? You’ll have to push my wheelchair around forever when I get old, you’ll owe me,” Stiles told the baby and Nicky cooed, apparently in agreement.

“Get your own kid, he’ll be busy with waiting hand and foot on _us_ ,” Danny grinned, shifting a little on his armchair when Ethan, who had gone to bring him a slice of pie, snuggled into the free space.

“But I’ll never be able to produce something as cute as him, so why should I even try, knowing it’ll end in disappointment!” Stiles replied, glaring at Jackson when Lydia’s boyfriend snorted loudly and then held out his arms expectantly, arguing that Stiles lived with the kid and he, as the other godfather, should have prioritized cuddle rights whenever he came over.

Having surrendered the baby to a smugly grinning Jackson, who promptly dissolved into a puddle of goo when Nicky grinned up at him experimentally, Stiles got up from the floor and stretched his legs, noticing that the water-pitcher was almost empty.

As he set about refilling it he shook his head at himself, wondering why the thought of seeing Derek again was turning his entire stomach into knots.

He had, after all stopped thinking about the man weeks ago.

Well, days.

Possibly over the last hour.

It was stupid to want someone he knew would be bad for him but somehow, despite all of his better knowledge telling him it was wrong, Stiles simply couldn’t get the soft look in Derek’s eyes during their second time out of his mind.

He only hoped Derek would never look at him like that again, give him the hope that maybe all of this was just a horrible misunderstanding and he was every bit a victim of his insane family as Danny had been.

If he did, it would only lead to him doing something he would regret.

 

================

 

For the third time in as many days Derek experienced a sharp pain in his side, this time accompanied by a dull ache in his back that made sitting at his desk for prolonged periods of time completely impossible.

It was just his luck, too, considering that he had to go and face off against _Stiles_ on national live television tonight, an experience that he had been dreading for days anyways.

He was already anticipating heartache as it was, actual physical pain would just be the icing on the cake, though in a strangely poetical way.

Because the door to his office was closed he allowed himself to let out a sound that, he was embarrassed to say, came pitifully close to a whimper as he stood up, walking up and down with his hands pressed to his sides in hopes to ease the pain.

He wondered what could have possibly brought this on, doubting that it was muscle pain. He hadn’t been to the gym in over two weeks, his exercise routine having been thrown completely out of whack since the beginning of the year anyways, first by the constant fatigue, then the bout of stomach flu that had left him with a rather sensitive stomach for almost two weeks after, and then the public relations debacle concerning Mahealani, which had required quite a few emergency meetings and, as evidenced by his unwanted talkshow stint tonight, more press routine than he was comfortable with, as Peter had demanded that the Hales put up a united front.

Cora’s blatant refusal to be roped into the whole thing after she had been told to take care of firing Scott herself had caused a major blowout between his uncle, older sister, and younger sister, with Derek caught in the middle, a position he hated with a passion.

They weren’t really speaking at the moment and for that Derek was almost glad, having quickly tired of acting as a messenger boy between the feuding parties.

Absentmindedly he rubbed a hand over his stomach, shaking his head with a soft sigh.

He found it quite remarkable to see how quickly his interrupted workout routine had made itself visible on his body.

According to the scale in his bathroom he hadn’t gained all that much weight, 3, 4 pounds at the most, which shouldn’t have made any difference at all on his large frame, but he could tell that some of his abdominal muscles had turned into a bit of padding, still firm to the touch, but no longer as defined as they once had been and almost rounded instead, not to mention that his tight dress-shirts had started fitting him rather snugly these days.

If he wasn’t completely mistaken he was also a bit fuller around his hips, the difference nearly unnoticeable even when he was naked but significant enough that he hadn’t been able to close the buttons of his favorite pair of skinny jeans earlier last week.

Grunting, Derek massaged said hips, hoping to stop the pain that way, certain that his body was punishing him for his lacking workout routine lately.

His musings were interrupted when Erica knocked on the door, entering barely a millisecond after, a habit Derek had been trying to break her off of since she had started working for him.

She was carrying a bag from his favorite boutique on Fifth Avenue and when he raised his eyebrows questioningly Erica gave him a critical once-over.

“You are not wearing this shirt on television tonight,” she said flatly, already pulling a maroon colored shirt out of the bag and holding it up next to Derek, sizing up the fit.

“I’m not?” Derek asked, taken aback, and Erica shook her blonde curls enthusiastically.

“Every man should get a new wardrobe every now and then, your time of renewal starts now,” she explained, a slight blush on her cheekbones as she fiddled with the tag of the shirt and Derek crossed his arms over his chest defensively.

“My wardrobe is fine the way it is,” he said snappily, chiding himself for being vain as he once more tugged at the hem to loosen the fit.

Erica was right – at least she had had the decency to be more tactful about it than Laura, who had actually poked his side at the press conference the other day and muttered, “You’re not a cop, lay off the donuts brother dearest.”

“Well?” Erica interrupted his awkward trip down memory lane, holding the shirt out towards him and Derek sighed in mock-exasperation as he began to pop the buttons of his old shirt open.

He had never been self-conscious about his body, wasn’t self-conscious now, not really, not over a tiny bit of roundness, but he did feel a bit uncomfortable when he stripped off the shirt and fought against the urge to cover up his chest.

He had spent a couple of minutes poking at his pecs that morning, wondering if his veins there had always been so visible and he just hadn’t noticed before. They weren’t as prominent as his still darker than usual nipples, but nevertheless easy to spot.

If Erica noticed she didn’t let on, neither did his assistant make a comment about his somewhat thicker waistline, her fingernails clacking impatiently on his desk as he closed the buttons of his new shirt.

When he was done she nodded appreciatively, stepping into his personal space to tug at the hem and adjust the fit a little, before stepping back and declaring, “Much better!” with an air of deep satisfaction.

“You know I would pay you extra if you let us get stuck in an elevator on our way downstairs, right?” he asked and Erica snorted, though her expression was sympathetic.

“I know you hate speaking in public Derek, but I’m afraid there’s no way to get you out of this. It’ll be fine, Larry King’s been around for so long no one watches him anymore anyways and the whole thing will be over in a flash.”

“I don’t even know what I’m supposed to say! Sure, Laura wrote me all these cue-cards, but what if Stiles uses a completely new angle? They used the misogyny angle with Kate, but that doesn’t really make sense with me and I’m pretty sure they’re going to make comments about how I basically look like I stepped out of an anti-carrier ad and I don’t even know what to say to that!”

Erica sighed.

“I’d say argue against stereotyping, but if you’re actually doing everything in your power to fulfill the stereotype then well, you have to admit they do have a point. Or, you know, you could grow some balls and not …”

“Don’t push me!” Derek interrupted her, glaring at her in warning and Erica shut up immediately, her hands coming up in a defensive position.

“Sorry boss, that was unnecessary,” she muttered, staring at him sadly for a moment before she walked out of his office.

When she was gone Derek slumped back into his chair, resting his head on his arms for a while.

She was right, and he knew it, there just wasn’t anything he could do about it, not without risking his own job and relationship with his family.

Not Cora, obviously, considering she still hung out with Stiles and his friends and didn’t even try to hide it, but he did not want to have an argument with Laura and there were more than a few reasons why he was genuinely afraid of having a row with Peter.

Sighing, he lifted his head, his gaze catching that of his mother’s smiling fondly at him from an old photograph of her and Derek’s father, taken a year before the fire.

“Would you have agreed with all of this?” he wondered, feeling the familiar heartache in his chest as a burst of longing went through him.

He was almost thirty years old but, perhaps because he had been robbed off so many years with her, there were days when, despite feeling every bit the adult he was, he desperately wanted his mother, wanted her to tell him it would all be ok and protect him against the world.

He had loved his father, but as the only boy in the family he had always had a special relationship with his mom and there was a part of him that was convinced she would have put a stop to this.

He had been too young to be interested in talking politics with her so he didn’t know what her position on carrier rights had been, but he wanted to believe she would have been in support of them, even if the matter hadn’t concerned her or her family.

What he did know, however, was that the company had meant the world to his mother, a chance to spread her vision among the people, and though Derek occasionally wondered if Peter’s continuation of her legacy was in fact a continuation or rather an alteration, he knew that he couldn’t allow the business to be run into the ground by anything.

Least of all Stiles Stilinski.

“I feel like a hypocrite, Mom, and I hate it,” he whispered, reaching out a finger to touch his mother’s cheek in the photograph.

He didn’t just feel like a hypocrite, he _was_ a hypocrite, and at the end of the day he just hoped that it would all be worth it.

The ERC was gaining momentum, and they would continue gaining momentum long after people had forgotten about this publicity circus.

He was defending his company, but he wasn’t doing irreparable damage to the movement.

It would all be fine.

It had to be just fine.

 

=================

 

“I sound like a smurf! I am about to go on television and I sound like a smurf!”

Derek looked at Erica and Laura despairingly, his gaze begging them to stop this last minute and Erica patted his shoulder helplessly, while Laura looked like she was about to burst into laughter.

It was probably nerves, Derek decided, nerves that had caused him to become severely congested within the past two hours and made his nose feel stuffy like he was in the middle of a full-blown cold.

“You’re completely exaggerating Der-Bear, you sound fine. You’ll knock them dead, you’re positively glowing with confidence! Stop whining about it!” Laura waved away his concerns and Erica nodded dutifully, though her comforting hand had not left his shoulder.

They were waiting outside the studio as King did whatever he usually did before welcoming guests and Derek felt like a nervous wreck the size of the _Titanic_ , partly because of his smurf-imitation, partly because of the cameras that would soon be focused on him, and mostly because Stiles was probably seconds away from entering the hallway and Derek was not prepared.

At all.

As evidenced by the way his heart lurched when Erica called out, “Batman!”, moving away from Derek to wrap her arms around Stiles, who returned the hug with a small laugh.

“Hey Cat Woman, got any secret intelligence for me?”

“Unlike you I want to keep my job,” Erica retorted, throwing a nervous glance at Laura, whose gaze had hardened.

“You can wipe that look off your face right now, she’d never do such a thing!” Derek hissed at his sister, trying to keep his voice down as he glared at the floor.

“She’d better not!” Laura hissed back, before turning towards Stiles with a brilliant grin.

“Mr. Stilinski, good evening! Here to engage in a fair debate with my brother, I hope?”

Stiles smiled back, his eyes as cold as Siberia.

“Unlike your company I actually understand the concept of fairness, Miss Hale, so I can assure you I will treat _Mr. Hale_ with the utmost respect,” he snapped, not looking at Derek at all and well, it wasn’t as if Derek had expected anything different.

It made it easier, actually, the hurt he felt at being dismissed like that transforming into righteous anger and by the time they were sitting across from Larry King Derek was so angry he was almost confident he could win.

Stiles was staring at the journalist but Derek could tell that his leg was twitching under the table and it gave him almost perverse pleasure to know that the younger man wasn’t quite as unaffected by their physical presence as he had pretend in the hallway.

Well … at least Derek hoped it was because of the fact that he could have easily reached out and placed his palm on Stiles’ thigh and not because he had suddenly developed camera-shyness.

“Most of you members in the audience will know that Stiles Stilinski used to work for _Hale_ & _Argent_ for a couple of years, until earlier this year, when he resigned his job in protest over his good friend Danny Mahealani getting fired because of his pregnancy. How has your former affiliation with _H &A _affected the way you have been handling this campaign so far,” King directed at Stiles and when Stiles turned towards King he was smirking humorlessly.

“Well, Larry, having worked at _Hale_ & _Argent_ for a few years I witnessed their discriminatory practices against carriers multiple times, in fact, my good friend Danny was harassed long before he ever decided to have a family. If it has affected the campaign at all then only in a positive way, because I, unlike many who level these accusations, can cite witnesses and exact situations that put companies under pressure. It is my fervent hope that more people will find the courage to speak out against their employers, because, and I say this from the bottom of my heart, having money is a beautiful thing, but having a clear conscience does not come with a price-tag.”

King raised his eyebrows but before he could dig further Stiles already continued speaking, his voice sympathetic.

“I obviously realize the state of our economy so I can perfectly understand people choosing to stay, especially if they have a family to support. We’re all about families at the ERC, but we also want carriers, their partners, and their babies to live happily in this society, without having to fear discrimination.”

“A sentiment the majority of the American public can support, I’m sure,” King said, turning towards Derek now with a judgmental half-smile and Derek groaned internally, wondering who had had the glorious idea of pushing for an interview with a known liberal.

“Mr. Hale, after the unfortunate tenure of your colleague Ms. Argent as a spokesperson you are now the third member of the Hale and Argent families to defend your company’s views, after your uncle’s ill-received interview in the _New York Times_ last week. Are you concerned that this back-and-forth will seem as if you and your family are, perhaps, not as united on this topic as you say you are?”

Derek narrowed his eyes, trying to keep his voice polite as he turned towards the camera.

“At _Hale_ & _Argent_ we are firmly committed to our belief that anyone can be a valuable asset to the company, as long as he or she honors the contract that was signed upon hiring. Whether Kate, Peter, or myself voice this conviction should neither matter to the ERC nor the press,” he said and King nodded, not looking chagrined in the slightest.

“A fair assessment Mr. Hale. Let me ask you the same question as Mr. Stilinski, then. Do you feel that fighting against a former employee, one that, I believe, was a mere editing assistant and not in any way affiliated with the higher-ups at your company, will help or hinder your appeal to the public?”

“Mr. Stilinski never worked under me, so I do not see the relevance of this question,” Derek said and immediately wanted to brain himself when he could feel Stiles tense beside him.

He hardly dared looking over but when he did Stiles’ expression was half-disbelief, half-anger, as if he really hadn’t expected Derek to go there, intentionally or not.

Derek himself didn’t quite know why he had gone there, the comment sparking uncomfortable memories of the fight he had had with Stiles in his office and when Stiles spoke again Derek knew he was thinking along the exact same lines.

“It becomes apparent, again, that the fine people at _Hale_ & _Argent_ have no concept of equality, as evidence by Mr. Hale’s comment just now that had I ever worked _under him_ that would have in any way changed the outcome of this debate! I hesitate to talk about superiority, a favorite term of groups like the Real Men Association, but I feel like I must point out that I hardly expected anything different from someone who could have well stepped out of a RMA commercial about how non-carriers are superior to carriers. And that’s the crux of the matter here, the fact that even though we should all be equal under the law we aren’t. And it’s about time that changes!”

Stiles’ cheeks had turned red and Derek was almost startled to notice it.

He couldn’t remember Stiles losing his composure like this before and the realization that he had managed to actually _get_ to the man, and in such a short time, too, both pained and pleased him.

He clearly wasn’t the only one who regretted their night together; whether that regret stemmed from the fall-out afterwards or the fact that it had happened at all was beside the point.

It would be the lowest of low blows, but after the ERC’s increasing popularity in the polls and Stiles easy besting of Kate in prior debates, Derek felt like a win for their side was in order.

“Mr. Stilinski obviously believes that resorting to stereotypical remarks about my physical appearance will sway the viewers on this issue, but if we’re quite done making this inappropriately _personal_ I suggest we return to the matter at hand, which is the very simple fact that _Hale_ & _Argent_ did not fire Mr. Mahealani because he was expecting per se but because he violated terms of his contract that he signed willingly. We respect Mr. Mahealani’s personal life choices, but we ask that he and the ERC respect our choices about how we run our company.”

Derek could almost feel the heat radiating off of Stiles’ skin as the younger man seemed to barely be able to reign in his fury and when he spoke next Stiles’ voice was shaking.

“You were the one who made it personal, when you …”

He bit his lip furiously, face paling as he clearly remembered where he was and Derek pounced, unable to control his own frustration anymore.

“When I _what_ , Mr. Stilinski? When I fired one of your closest friends and … since we’re talking so _intimately_ right now … former lover? Your dedication to the cause is remarkable and I have the deepest respect for your decision to part ways with our company to fight for Mr. Mahealani’s rights, but it doesn’t escape my notice that, as you pointed out earlier, you were well aware of our policies regarding carriers for years, yet you continued working for us right until the moment you realized that the pregnant man we fired could have been pregnant with _your child_! I must wonder if your efforts had been quite as _passionate_ if it had been any other man, not someone you actually cared about!”

Stiles was visibly fighting not to lunge at him now and Derek felt the bitterness of his success in the back of his throat, hating himself and the world for attacking Stiles on such a personal level.

“I … I … I have nothing further to say,” Stiles finally said, voice cold as he turned away from Derek and Derek could barely sit still through King’s lead into the next commercial, pushing his chair away from the table and making his way towards the door as soon as the cameras stopped rolling.

Erica and Laura were waiting outside the studio, having watched the entire debacle on the provided screen, and while his sister looked more or less pleased the look on Erica’s face perfectly echoed the feeling in Derek’s gut.

“Twitter is exploding,” Laura reported, thumbing at her phone with a frown as she went through the trends.

“Based on what this looks like it could be a win for us, after all you got Stilinski to shut up, which is ironic given that his profile on the ERC page basically opens with saying that he never does, but there are a bunch of people here who are attacking you for outing his relationship with Mahealani. Granted, he did start with the personal stuff by attacking your looks and that has definitely been noticed, but that Mahealani bit wasn’t necessary, especially because that opens you up to speculation.”

She thumbed through a couple of entries before holding up her phone and Derek winced when he saw the hashtags #StilinskiScorned, #jiltedlovers, and #greeneyedDerek.

“None of these are particularly catchy,” he scoffed, accepting a glass of water that Erica had wordlessly handed to him, even though her eyes were still speaking volumes.

“I like the green-eyed one, actually, your eyes do look green when you’re on camera, but that’s not really what we’re going for here Derek. It’ll hurt your credibility if people find out the two of you have a … uhm … history, and you shouldn’t let that color your wording again. I’ll be able to spin this to our advantage, don’t worry, but just don’t do it again, ok? The only time who fucked whom is relevant in this context is if someone is actually knocked up and _thank god_ that’s not the issue here, so let’s keep it PG, ok?”

Derek nodded with a sigh and when he looked towards Erica his assistant averted her eyes, her arms crossed over her chest as she stared towards the studio-door.

“It’s 9, so I’m technically off work now, right?” she asked, still not looking at him, and Derek nodded, telling himself not to feel hurt when Erica rushed towards Stiles the moment he stepped out the door, wrapped her arm around his shoulder and steered him away from the Hales, not even looking back at Derek as the friends exited through another door.

“And you’re absolutely _sure_ that one’s not going to be a problem?” Laura asked, staring after Erica with suspicion and Derek nodded, even though he wasn’t quite that sure anymore, not after that look of utter disappointment on Erica’s face.

“She’s professional, she won’t let her personal feelings affect her work for me. If they did, she would have quit working with me a long time ago,” Derek said firmly and Laura sighed, once again looking at her phone.

“I’m trusting your judgment here Derek, don’t screw it up!”

It was a gut-feeling, more than anything, but as they walked out of the studio and ordered Peter’s driver to take them to their respective places, Derek couldn’t help but wonder if he had already screwed up way beyond words.

 

=====================

 

“Are you ok?”

Stiles cracked open one eye, peering out from his blanket nest and staring at Scott balefully, as if he could put the stupidity of the question into one raised eyebrow.

“Never been better, obviously,” he grunted, pushing his face back into the pillows.

Five seconds later the mattress dipped and when he opened his eyes again Scott’s concerned face was just about five inches away.

“I saw the debate,” Scott said, nudging his shoulder softly, and Stiles sighed loudly.

“Everyone did. I made an ass out of myself! I let him get to me _twice_ and now everyone is going to know we have a history and I’ll become a laughing stock and …”

“Why would anyone even assume you have a history, don’t be ridiculous,” Scott soothed and Stiles snorted.

“That part about working _under_ him? I watched it on the news, man, the way I emphasized that was a voice-recording you could put into the dictionary under UST! I made myself sound like I was a bitter ex! And then, instead of putting him in his place for bringing up Danny, I started sulking, because I know damn well he’s right and I’ve just jeopardized everything!”

Scott groaned.

“First of all, people were wondering if you guys used to be a thing before you ever got on camera. Didn’t you see that picture someone took at the reception of you guys? That was circulated as soon as it was announced that Derek would debate against you and people were wondering how well you know each other anyways. And besides, the way you phrased it seemed more like you were attacking the Hales for misogynist views of carriers, heck, you made that perfectly clear when you talked about equality. If anything – and even that is a stretch already, just saying – at worst people are going to think Hale tried to feel you up and you refused because you were aware that it wouldn’t have been an equal relationship. So honestly, don’t worry about it!”

Scott took a deep breath, expression contempletative.

“And besides, everyone accuses everyone of having sex with each other these days. If I posted a picture of me and Jackson on my instagram right now _someone_ would assume we took it after sex. That’s just the way it is, so I really wouldn’t think too much of it unless people start asking you in interviews. And then you can always shame them for reducing the topic of carrier rights to the mere act of sex.”

Stiles grinned, albeit softly.

“I could shame them, definitely,” he admitted and Scott nodded, grinning as well.

“As for Danny …”

“Danny was the one who kept working at the company even after Dahler tried to get him fired during the entire first half year. Only Danny loved his job too much to let some idiot get to him – and he wanted to send the message that he wasn’t going to be bullied out of a situation where he had a legal right to be. If Danny didn’t leave then there was no reason for you to leave either. We were doing the jobs we wanted to do and we didn’t let anyone stand in the way of that. If you’re honestly beating yourself up because you think Derek Hale has a right to call you a hypocrite I’m afraid I’ll have to put you on diaper duty for the entire next year as a punishment!”

Stiles pushed back the covers, peering guilty up at Danny, who was leaning against the doorframe, a sleeping Nicky nestled in his arms.

“Got room for two more?” he asked and despite the sorrowful expression in his eyes Stiles managed a smirk, patting the surface of the mattress on his other side with a shake of his head.

“Danny, Danny, Danny, if you had said that seven years ago I would have …”

“My baby is here,” Danny interrupted him, although he was grinning as well, the two of them sharing an amused smile when Scott muttered, “Too much information in this house, way too much information.”

Stiles pushed the blanket down even further, rolling onto his back and smiling when Danny placed Nicky on his chest and then rolled onto his stomach, propping up his head on his arms and turning it towards Stiles.

“Oh man, you don’t even know how much I enjoy being able to do this again! I was afraid to lie on my stomach for months, this is so much better,” he sighed and Stiles chuckled, muttering, “I seem to remember some grunting about that,” as he stroked his fingers up and down the sleeping baby’s back.

“I should take you with me next time. No one who sees you could ever say you were a bad thing and we can just settle the entire debate,” he whispered to the little boy, winking at Danny when the baby’s father rolled his eyes fondly.

“Seriously though, I don’t think you’re a hypocrite Stiles. You always stood up for me when someone was getting to me and the way I see it you remaining at the company was a testament to our friendship. Also, they were in desperate need of a good supernatural editor, so there’s that.”

Stiles sighed.

“I’d be surprised if they’d be in need of one now, I mean, my two main clients were Queen and Rawling and based on their writing I’m pretty sure they are very much pro-carrier rights and probably won’t be too happy about all of this,” he said and Danny nodded.

“Doesn’t change the fact that I do feel like a hypocrite though,” Stiles continued after a moment of silence and both other men groaned.

“Stiles! There are carrier-supporters working at anti-carrier establishments all over the country. That doesn’t mean they support the opposition, that means that they understand that sometimes in life we encounter people who think differently, which is well in their right.  Being against carrier-rights is perfectly acceptable as long as carriers are treated according to the existing laws. I know you don’t like to hear this, but if I waited around for everyone to change their mind I’d die a very sad, bitter man. People have a right to their opinions, no matter how misguided they may be … it’s when these opinions translate into hateful actions that they become a problem.”

This time it was Stiles who groaned.

“But if their opinion is the _wrong one_ …”

Danny pressed his fingers against his lips, silencing him.

“Do you think I didn’t research the company before joining up with them? I knew what I was getting into. I could have said no, I’m not going to work for people like that, but I liked the job, I liked the pay, and I liked my colleagues. If we’re talking about hypocrites then I’m the biggest one of all, because I sold my self-respect for a fancy place in Manhattan!”

Stiles scoffed.

“Are you crazy? You have the right to work wherever you want, why would that make you …”

He trailed off, cocking an eyebrow at Danny when the other man grinned.

“See?”

Danny poked a finger against his shoulder triumphantly.

“Now you’re saying what I was saying two minutes ago. Stop worrying about this, please, there are so many other things you could worry about and people thinking you are a hypocrite really isn’t one of them, because no one who really matters is going to think so.”

“Besides,” Ethan interrupted, sticking his head into the room as well and shaking it in amusement when he noticed his husband and baby snuggled against Stiles.

“You’re doing more for the cause now than any non-carrier has done in a very long time and so what if it took a really huge personal blow to push you out there for good! The most important thing is you’re doing something now, and my son is going to thank you for it later, when it’s his own rights that are in danger of being threatened.”

“You think he’ll be a carrier?” Scott asked, watching Ethan curiously when he climbed on the bed as well and curled around Danny, arm securely wrapped around his husband’s waist.

“His daddy’s a carrier, and Aiden and my father was also a carrier. He didn’t carry us, but the gene comes from our side of the family as well, so I wouldn’t be surprised at all.”

As if on cue Nicky let out a little cooing sound, not quite ready to wake up yet but definitely on his way there and Stiles rubbed a soothing circle on his back, trying to coax the baby back to sleep.

“Guess I’ll have to double my efforts then, hmm Nicky-Boy?” he mused and for a while everyone was silent.

When Stiles turned his head to the right again he was not surprised to find Ethan and Danny deeply asleep and a moment later Scott’s soft snoring indicated that his best friend had crashed out as well.

Stiles, however, was wide-awake and when Nicky began to make suckling motions against his shirt he held the baby to his chest tightly, disentangling himself from the people-pile on his bed as carefully as he could and walking towards the kitchen in search of some formula.

Five minutes later Nicky was suckling on his bottle with the utmost concentration and Stiles looked down at him fondly, making himself comfortable in the armchair and hoping that the baby’s parents would at least get a little bit of the sleep they were obviously in need of.

“I feel bad for saying this, but almost hope you won’t be a carrier, even if something tells me your father’s instincts are right on the money little man. Of course you’ll be kick-ass no matter what, but there’s a bunch of hurt coming your way that you wouldn’t have to go through if you aren’t. I just hope we can all be there for you in the way you need us when the time comes,” he told the baby seriously, sighing when Nicky looked towards his general direction with sleepy-blinky eyes.

“I was tested twice, you know, my parents wanted to make absolutely sure because there was such a high possibility that I could have been, you know, and both times I witnessed at least one set of parents freak out over the news that their son had tested positive. The second time was really horrible though, the parents were just screaming at their son that he wasn’t a real man and that they were going to have him re-tested. You should have seen my mom though, she walked straight up to them, stood in front of that boy and tore those parents a new one like you wouldn’t even believe! Then my dad flashed his badge and asked if maybe they wanted to involve child-protective services because he’d heard something about surgical removal a moment earlier and that father tried to throw a punch at him! Stupid decision, mind you, my dad doesn’t look like he’s a trained fighter, but he can have you on the ground and handcuffed in two-seconds flat. You’ll meet him soon by the way, he’s been dying to meet his grandson-who-could-have-been for weeks now!”

Stiles smiled, allowing himself to – just for a moment – imagine a tiny set of moles sprinkled over Nicky’s chubby arms and cheeks.

“You could have been mine, you know? I was so in love with your daddy when we were in high school but he never even gave me the time of day until one afternoon towards the end of our senior year. I was feeling really insecure about all of my friends getting girlfriends and boyfriends while no one was even looking at me twice and I might or might not have blurted out, “Someone has to sex me right now!” in the middle of the locker room. Your daddy was standing right beside me without me noticing, gave me this really long look … and then just pushed me against the locker and kissed the shit out of me. I mean poopy, sorry, no cursing in front of you, young man.”

Stiles winced.

“Although _someone kissed the poopy out of you_ sounds kind of really gross, which is strange, given that it doesn’t sound weird to say someone kisses the shit ouf you. Or maybe it does and I’ve just not realized it until now? But I disgress. The point is that for the rest of our senior year and a couple of months into our freshmen year at college your daddy and I had a lot of fun together and so you totally could have been mine. Well, not really I guess, I do know how to use condoms, but if we’d stayed together I would totally be your daddy now!”

Nicky stared at him in what Stiles figured was disbelief and he chuckled, tracing a finger across the still-drinking baby’s cheek.

“Yeah I know, fat chance, your daddy and papa were made for each other and between you and me, you’re much better off having me as the fun uncle. Pretty sure I’d be super paranoid and strict so you’d grow up resenting me forever. You want to know a secret though?”

Nicky let go of the bottle with a soft pop and Stiles rested him against his shoulder, gently patting the baby’s back as he waited for the inevitable spit-up.

When he was settled back in his arms Stiles smiled sadly.

“We are from a really small town, your daddy and I, and everyone knew almost everything about each other. Well … not almost everything, there are a couple of really big secrets that are being kept in that town, but ever since they made the testing centers so much more visible it has almost been impossible not to know when someone’s been diagnosed a carrier. So people always seemed to know that about your daddy and when I started going out with him there was this one guy who pulled me aside one day, pushed me against the wall and asked if I was really willing to become the father of a freakish carrier baby.”

Stiles scoffed softly, anger building in his gut even at the memory.

“Joke was on him for attacking me like that of course, because your daddy is kick-ass and pulled him off of me the moment he turned the corner and saw what was going on, but I never quite forgot that, you know? How that guy looked at me like nothing worse could ever possibly happen to me than becoming the father of a carrier-born child? I always thought people like that were crazy for thinking that way, but now that I look at you I _know_ they are!”

He cocked his head, considering.

“Between you and me though, I would have been proud to be your daddy. Heck, I love you so much I don’t even know how it would be possible to love you even more, even if you were mine. I might never have a carrier-born child of my own, but if I ever do – and that’s a big hypothetical if because apparently I currently go for carrier-phobic bigots instead of smart, loving, and well-adjusted carriers like your daddy – I’ll do everything in my power to make sure that child will have every reason to be as proud of me as I’ll be of him or her. And that’s a promise!”

Nicky had fallen asleep again and Stiles settled back into the chair once more, watching the baby’s eyelids flutter as he dreamed.

He was dreading the backlash of the debate, still convinced that people were going to catch on to the fact that he and Derek had a – albeit brief – history together and that it would somehow undermine his authority, but as he continued to watch Nicky sleep he was more determined than ever to make some change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Subscribers have almost doubled this week, so thank you all, seriously, I love to see the enthusiasm for my story :) !!!!!
> 
>  
> 
> Next Update: Sunday, 04/19  
> Chapter Title: A Fluttering Confrontation  
> Chapter Summary: Angst, a debate, angst, an unhappy confrontation, angst. 
> 
> ... possibly the chapter I re-wrote the most.


	8. A Fluttering Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst, a debate, angst, an unsettling confrontation, angst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING! 
> 
> WARNING! 
> 
> WARNING! 
> 
> WARNING!
> 
> I re-wrote this chapter the most out of all because this is the past-non-con/dubious-con chapter and I wanted to be as careful with it as I possibly could.
> 
> I'll also put this in the end note so if you get triggered by these things you might either want to skip the chapter or read the note first to be prepared.
> 
> Again, please protect yourself: there are two instances of dub-con that take place in this time-line and a recollection of a past non-con incident as well as some talk about it that reflects hurtful and damaging stereotypes of our time (which I harshly condemn but had to include for accuracy) and I'll explain why this is in there at the end, but again, please don't read if this could trigger you.

“For the last time, I said no!” Derek barked into the phone, letting out a rather impressive growl before he slammed it down and disconnected the call.

He felt guilty almost immediately, though the guilt quickly turned into annoyance when, not even twenty seconds later, the phone in Erica’s office began to ring.

Five minutes later, his decidedly not amused assistant threw open the door, marched over to Derek’s desk, and planted her hands firmly on top of it, staring Derek down with a scowl.

“Bobby Finstock just informed me that he will be sick for the rest of the week to nurse his – and I quote – emotional wounds sustained during phone calls with an _executive asshole_! Care to tell me why we scream at the people we work with now? Is that a new company policy?” she snapped and Derek pinched the bridge of his nose, forcing himself to remain calm as his other hand snuck down to his stomach to scratch the irritated skin.

His skin had been dry for days now and the itch had become almost maddening; to a point where Derek was almost ready to raid Laura’s expensive skin-care collection without his sister’s knowledge.

Erica cleared her throat angrily and Derek, still fuming over Finstock’s attitude and going out of his mind over the desperate urge to scratch his entire skin off, slammed his hands on the table, pushing himself up and glaring at his assistant.

“If I want to scream at an incompetent, disrespectful fool I will, because, in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m Derek Hale and it’s about damn time that means something in this place, now that I’m spending all my time on fucking _television_!” he barked and Erica bristled, taking a step back with a furious glare of her own.

“Oh yeah? Well how about you stop taking out your frustrations about the publicity scheming of your sister and uncle on _me_ and the rest of our employees and go scream at _them_ instead!” she hissed, turning around and marching out of his office abruptly, slamming the door behind her for good measure.

Groaning, Derek collapsed back into his chair, squeezing his eyes shut against the sudden wave of dizziness seemingly brought on by all these quick movements.

He could hear Erica slamming drawers in her office, as well as angry muttering as she had undoubtedly picked up the phone to rant to Boyd about him and he suddenly had to blink back tears, feeling like the most horrible boss of all time when he realized just how often Erica had felt the need to rant about him lately.

He almost didn’t recognize himself anymore some of these days and it frightened him, his heart constricting in his chest when he wondered if this was _still_ about Stiles if, by having sex with him, he had somehow broken his brain and was now reaping the consequences.

It would certainly explain the sometimes alarmingly quick moods swings he had been suffering from lately, going from ridiculously happy to furious to weepy in quick succession, and he knew that Erica was probably already researching mental hospitals.

He wouldn’t have taken it personally.

Inexplicable mood swings, recurring random aches all over his body, and the occasional feeling of dizziness aside there was also another, rather strange and somewhat embarrassing issue he had been occupied with lately.

He was horny.

Constantly, in fact, alternating between painfully hard and backburner aroused like he hadn’t since his most awkward teenage phase.

It was driving him up the wall and not in a good way, the relief of his hand always short-lived and, on the whole, rather unsatisfying.

His body craved intimate human contact and short of paying someone for it Derek had no idea how to solve the problem, feeling his loneliness harder than ever before.

He had tried porn, masturbated with a frequency last achieved during high school, and the night before he had even gone out to a club, his distaste for clubbing in general overpowered by the near unbearable need to feel someone up close against him.

It had made him pause when he had gotten out of the cab, a part of him ready to just get right back in and go home, because this was not like him at all, not even close.

Yet, there was a deep-seated need in him he simply couldn’t shake, made even more powerful by the strange loneliness that had been weighing on him for weeks, near months, now, and he had taken a deep breath, figuring that he could at least give it a try.

He hadn’t needed to look long, catching the interested eye of a younger guy almost immediately, and though he had originally planned to drink at least one vodka for his nerves Derek hadn’t protested when the man had grabbed his hand and led him to a backroom before he could even make it to the bar, letting himself be pushed against the wall and moaning desperately when the guy had kissed his neck while rubbing his palm over his crotch.

He had been wearing the maroon button-down shirt, and when the guy had struggled with the buttons in his attempts to take the shirt off Derek had been startled to realize that the new shirt had somehow become snug in only two weeks, almost too snug, it seemed, when the guy almost tore out the button right over his navel.

When the shirt had finally fallen open the guy had wasted no time in attaching his mouth to Derek’s ever-darkening nipples, rolling them between his lips and biting down gently and causing Derek’s eyes to roll into the back of his head and forgetting about his slight embarrassment about the shirt immediately, overcome by the intense pleasure.

He had pulled the guy away by his ears, panting heavily, afraid he would come in his pants before the guy even managed to push his hand down his boxers and his hook-up had seemed to be on board with that, an almost fond, understanding smile that seemed strangely out of place on his face as he had grasped Derek’s waist with one hand to pull him closer while the other had fiddled with his jeans-button, once again seemingly encountering resistance that Derek wasn’t used to.

Derek had tried to suck in his stomach, though that hadn’t seemed to help for some reason, and he had breathed out a sigh when the button had finally sprung open.

The guy had gently freed his dick from its confinement and begun to stroke slowly, leaning up to suck on Derek’s collarbone for a bit and then pulling back with a grin, winking at Derek before he had bent his head and begun to trail his lips down Derek’s chest.

The hand on his dick had been working steadily and Derek had looked down through hooded eyes, one hand pressed against the wall behind him the other holding on to the guy’s head as he had kissed and licked all over Derek’s stomach, falling to his knees as he had nosed against the very sensitive underside of Derek’s belly.

It was a relatively new development, this soft, blink and you might miss it curve that had replaced Derek’s former abs of steel for good in the past two weeks or so, and Derek still wasn’t sure what to think about it other than accepting that his age was probably paying tribute to the god of slowed down metabolisms.

And even though he had looked a little frustrated while struggling with the buttons Derek’s new acquaintance had seemed to be almost enthralled by it, eyes flickering up to Derek’s briefly before he had begun to suck hickeys into the somewhat taunt skin.

Derek didn’t mind hickeys in hidden places, not normally, but something about what the guy had been doing had turned him off, a thought that had come to him rather clearly when he had realized that the hand on his dick had slowed down significantly, the aching member seemingly forgotten in favor of the slight roundness of his belly.

When the guy had abandoned his dick completely and rubbed his entire face against Derek’s stomach the older man had flinched, suddenly feeling very wrong about this.

He had grasped the man’s head and pulled him away, noting with a frown that the younger man had seemed to be almost in a daze.

He had tried to dart forward again and again Derek had pulled at his face, using his strength to force the guy to stand up and look him in the eye, hoping he could convey to him that this was not doing it for him at all.

There had been a look of disappointment in the younger man’s eyes that had quickly been hidden by annoyance and Derek had tensed when the guy had pressed his hand against his stomach hard, as if he was trying to feel for something, though Derek would have been damned to know for what.

“Stop!” he had said loudly, prepared to have to yell over the music but just as quickly as the hand had come it had been gone and the guy had backed off, looking almost sick for a moment before he had turned around and walked away without a word, leaving Derek standing against the wall in stunned silence, the erection that had previously been throbbing against his belly now on half-mast.

Feeling self-conscious, Derek had tugged himself back in, shaking his head in a mixture of disappointment and relief when he had fumbled for the button of his jeans, cursing under his breath when, once again, not even sucking in his stomach had helped him to actually close the damn thing.

When he had finally gotten the button closed and gone for the buttons on his shirt he had noticed another guy staring at him, the man’s expression slightly curious and slightly sympathetic.

“Sorry for my friend dude, he …”

The guy had trailed off, shrugging as if that explained everything and Derek had ignored him, buttoning his shirt up as quickly as he could and resolving to go buy another before he had to go back on camera tomorrow evening, not feeling comfortable with the way the buttons were straining now that he was really paying attention.

“No, seriously, I’m really sorry he … I guess he misunderstood, see, he has this kink and it’s kind of hard for him to … he doesn’t really get to meet many unattached preg…”

Derek had looked up at him sharply and the stranger had bitten off the last word and taken a step back, hands held up in defense.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“Well, you are, so run along!” Derek had growled, turning on his heels and making his way out of the club quickly, suddenly feeling like the walls were closing in on him.

He had made his way home as quickly as he could and stripped off his clothes with a growl, throwing the shirt against the wall in frustration when two of the buttons had indeed come loose and resolving to talk to Erica about investing in better quality material.

He hadn’t looked in the mirror as he had brushed his teeth quickly and by the time he had collapsed onto the mattress he had been so tense that his back had been cramping, making it almost impossible to find a comfortable position.

Not that he could have gotten any sleep even if he had been comfortable, the second guy’s words ringing through his head repeatedly.

It didn’t take a genius to connect what the stranger had almost said to the way the other man had touched him and Derek hadn’t really been sure whether to feel used, insulted, or bad for feeling insulted.

So maybe his stomach was a bit rounder these days than usual; that certainly didn’t mean he was about to consent to some pretend-pregnancy kink play or whatever the younger guy had been going for.

Not that he had suddenly turned carrier-phobic after all, he was just not comfortable with pretending to be pregnant while he was in the process of defending his company’s anti-carrier regulations on national television.

Sighing, Derek had shaken his head, letting his fingers trail over the body part in question. It wasn’t even all that big, really, just a tiny little curve that was a bit more pronounced than his abdominal muscles ever had been and if his dress shirt hadn’t been form-fighting and cut a bit looser no one would have even seen it.

Just a tiny bit of pudge and extra skin, nothing he couldn’t work off in a couple of weeks once this circus was over and he actually had time to go to the gym.

A tiny bit of very sensitive extra skin, Derek had thought grimly, hissing when he touched his belly-button and realized just how sore that entire area felt and removing his hands with a frustrated groan.

He had slept very badly as a result of the discomfort in his body and the anxiety caused by his experience and when he had gotten up this morning his bad mood had only increased when he had noticed the hickeys all over his belly and on his collarbone.

The ones on his belly could easily be hidden with the new shirt Erica had bought on her way to work, a nice teal color that made Derek’s eyes pop in all the good ways, but the one on his collarbone was just next to the top of his sternum, meaning that he would have to wear a tie to cover it up and Derek _hated_ ties.

With a passion.

All in all it was shaping up to be the worst day yet in a long line of rather bad days and by the time Erica stormed out of his office after their spat Derek was ready to go into hiding, curl up under the covers and just forget the world even existed.

The tears he had tried so hard to blink back were falling now and Derek would have shaken his head at himself and his sudden regression to his toddler years if he hadn’t been so busy sobbing into the crook of his arms, head resting on his desk and his shoulders shaking.

Derek wasn’t prone to crying and he definitely wasn’t prone to emotional outbursts in the office and the realization that he couldn’t have even stopped the crying if he’d wanted to scared him, making his breath come in stuttering gasps.

The angry muttering behind the door abruptly cut off and Derek didn’t even lift his head when the door to his office slammed open, not wanting to face the stunned expression on his assistant’s face.

At least he hoped it was her, and not Peter or Kate, who would undoubtedly use the opportunity to belittle him even more than they did normally and though he was usually quite good at ignoring them he _definitely_ wasn’t in the state of mind to do so now.

There was the clicking of heels on the hardwood floors and then Erica was plastered against his back, arms wrapped around his shoulders and her blonde curls tickling against his neck as she buried her nose in his hair, whispering soothing words and shushing him like he was a wounded animal.

Her hold on him was tight and Derek was seriously tempted to ask her to make an appointment with a therapist for him when he sobbed harder, unable to stop his emotions from overflowing at the first actual affection he had felt in weeks.

Erica rubbed her cheek against his head, as if she was a cat, and slowly but surely Derek began to get himself back under control, his breath still hitched but the tears no longer cascading down his cheeks as if he was trying to do an impression of the Niagara Falls.

When he leaned back Erica let go of him, though she kept a firm grip on his knee when she pulled up a chair and sat across from him, concern written all over her face.

“Did something happen last night Derek? Do we need to call the police?” she asked and Derek blinked in confusion, wiping his hand across his damp cheeks with a sigh.

“What? No, why would you …?” he began, his voice rusty, and Erica pulled out her phone, thumbing over the screen before she showed him a text.

_Saw your boss at the club last night. Went back with some guy and then left in a hurry. He looked upset_

Erica pocketed her phone again, gaze fixed on the large hickey on Derek’s collarbone.

“I got this from a friend of mine. He recognized you and he says the guy apparently has some sort of sketchy reputation or something? You’d tell me if something happened to you, right? You know it’s not ok to shame the victims, right?”

Derek shook his head, tugging at his shirt collar uncomfortably.

“Nothing happened. It wasn’t the best experience I’ve ever had but when I told him to stop he did, no questions asked. Nothing bad happened, I promise, this has nothing to do with … what just happened,” he finished, his tone clearly indicating that he himself had no idea what the hell had just transpired.

“You are absolutely sure? Because I know you tend to keep these things to yourself and I just don’t want you to …”

“It’s fine, Erica,” Derek interrupted her, squeezing her hand in what he hoped was reassurance and silently begging her not to go there, to let the old ghosts stay buried in the closet.

Erica looked torn but she nodded, reaching out a hand to ruffle his hair with a sad smile.

“I worry about you boss, I really, really do. You haven’t been yourself in months, you’re always tired, you, I’m sorry but I’m going to be frank here, lose your shit over the stupidest of things lately, and I’ve never seen you so _sad_ in all the years since I’ve known you, not even back then … I know you’re under a lot of stress right now, with everything that’s been happening, but you need to take care of yourself and if this is all too much then you _have_ to tell your uncle and make him put a stop to this, because I don’t want to see you so upset when you don’t have to be! We’re a symbiosis, you and I, and when you’re upset I’m upset, which means that Boyd’s upset, which means that my home life _and_ my business life suck and I don’t like it, alright?”

Derek sighed and rested his hands on his belly automatically, the gesture strangely comforting.

Erica followed his gaze and then looked away, quickly, focusing on his face instead.

“You like the shirt boss? I thought it would go well with your general everything,” she said, clearly trying to lighten the mood and Derek nodded, grateful that she wasn’t going to press further.

He already felt much better and could barely remember what he had been feeling so brokenhearted about just minutes before, so it wasn’t like he could have given her a satisfactory answer anyway.

Erica grinned, reaching over and patting his hands lightly, a teasing glint now in her eyes.

“Make sure you don’t ruin that one so quickly, as per your instructions I paid a small fortune for this baby,” she cautioned and Derek winced, remembering the torn buttons on his bedroom floor with embarrassing clarity.

“I’ll try my very best,” he promised, waving his hands towards the stack of papers on his desk to indicate that he had to finish some work before the talk-show and Erica nodded, getting up and scratching her fingers against his scalp one last time before she headed towards the door.

She had almost exited the office when she paused, turning around and fixing Derek with a no-objections-allowed expression.

“Oh and tell you what boss, how about you come spend the evening with me and Boyd tonight after the taping. Just the three of us, a good bottle of wine, my baby’s delicious cooking, and good conversation. I know it’s technically not professional to get drunk and lament the state of the world with your boss, but I think we lost all remaining boundaries when you held my hair back while I puked pink glitter into the paper shredder after the jello-shot miracle of Christmas 2013. We’re there, we’ve reached that point.”

Derek smiled at her fondly, nodding gratefully.

He desperately needed something to look forward to today and with yet another talk show face-off against Stiles on the horizon in just a few short hours an evening with two friends might just do the trick.

 

==================

 

Five hours later Derek was sweating before the interview had even begun, tugging at his tie nervously as he made himself as comfortable as possible on the hard studio chairs, waiting for Stiles to join him on the podium as he politely pretended to pay attention to the moderator, who was going through his notes with him.

He wondered if they were using these chairs on purpose, to make sure their guests looked uncomfortable even if they presented a convincing argument, wondering if it would be appropriate to ask for a cushion or something that would prevent him from having to add ‘butt-ache’ to his already sore lower back.

Two minutes before the cameras were supposed to start rolling Stiles finally stumbled into the studio, looking a bit out of breath, an attractive flush coloring his cheeks as he offered the moderator his hand and ignored Derek completely.

“Mr. Stilinski, _right_ on time,” the moderator said somewhat facetiously, and Derek bit back a smile against his will when Stiles raised his eyebrows, his usual glint of mirth in his eyes as he made himself comfortable, long legs almost touching Derek’s under the table.

“Sorry Sir, my godson had an explosive diarrhea emergency and trust me when I say that I really needed to change my shirt,” Stiles answered flippantly, making Derek groan internally when the older man realized the exact second the moderator, a father of three kids according to Erica’s notes, switched allegiance from neutral to being on Stiles’ side, clearly charmed by his open and friendly attitude.

It was going to be a difficult debate, that much he was sure about, and not only because he was now sweating in places he hadn’t even known he had sweat glands and was once again fighting off completely inappropriate arousal, brought on by the sight of Stiles’ long fingers gesticulating through the air.

“Good evening ladies and gentleman, I am here with Mr. Stiles Stilinski from the Equal Rights for Carrier Movement and Mr. Derek Hale from _Hale_ & _Argent_ Publishers, notoriously known for thinking carriers anything _but_ equal,” the moderator suddenly interrupted him and Derek could see Erica bury her head in her hands from the corner of his eye, feeling her pain acutely.

 _Notoriously_ known?

It was official; fair, neutral moderating had just flown out the window.

As the moderator gave a brief overview of Danny’s story, occasionally supported with pictures – as far as Derek could tell from the tiny screen in front of the table that showed the finished product while he could only see the green screen – Stiles stared at Derek, his eyes hard and challenging, as if he could somehow sniff out Derek’s discomfort and wanted to put him under even more pressure, the glint in his eyes a clear warning not to make it personal again.

Not that Derek had been planning to do that, some of the emails he had gotten still ringing in his head.

“Mr. Stilinski, I’m sure we’re all wondering, how is that little rascal doing these days?”

Stiles grinned fondly, beaming at the camera.

“Nicky-boy is doing _great_! Well, we had a bit of a diaper emergency earlier today but that’s ok, he’s not even three months old, we’ve decided to give him at least until the five month mark before we expect him to be fully potty-trained,” he winked, chuckling good-naturedly with the moderator, who mock-lamented, “Two years, three years, and almost four years, I feel the pain … and now my children do, too.”

“Revenge, right?” Stiles laughed good-naturedly and Derek felt decidedly out of the loop here, as if he was truly and outsider looking in while Stiles and the moderator swapped baby-stories.

He knew what this would look like, how their opponents would frame this interview.

Here they were, the pro-baby faction, merrily discussing diaper emergencies while Derek sat there looking like he was the one who was constipated.

Peter and Laura would be pissed and Derek wasn’t looking forward to that one tiny bit.

“Alright then. Well, Mr. Hale, I’m sure you must be relieved that little Nicky Mahealani is doing so well, despite the stress his father was placed under by your company during the entire pregnancy?” the moderator asked, turning towards him with a rather judgmental expression and Derek blinked, squinting at his notes desperately, which clearly stated that they had been supposed to talk about rule-violation first.

“I … uh … I don’t … I don’t think it’s appropriate for me to be commenting on Mr. Mahealani’s son,” he tried to change the topic, genuinely not comfortable with talking about the baby, actually, but the moderator charged, clearly having identified a weakness.

“Isn’t that the crux of the matter though Mr. Hale? The appropriateness of carrier-born children, or rather, what their appropriate place in society should be?”

“Mr. Hale clearly believes that carrier-children should neither be seen, nor heard of, a stance that, I am very sad to report, is quite common not only at _H_ & _A_ publishers, but also at various other carrier-unfriendly businesses across the nation. Pretending they don’t exist doesn’t make them go away, however, in fact, I can assure you that Nicky Mahealani is alive, well, and not going anywhere. Or rather, he is going to go everywhere, wherever he wants, that is, and it is this organization’s goal to make that happen, beginning with the rights of carrier-born parents, who are subjected to soul-crushing humiliation, restrictions, and barriers on an everyday basis. Research has clearly shown that it has often devastating effects on the children, who not only grow up being taunted but also have to watch their parents suffer under the system.”

“That is most certainly true, in fact, Mr. Hale, are you aware of recently published statistics that indicate carrier-born children are more likely to lose at least one parent to heart-diseases and consequences of depression, resulting from the enormous social stigmatization they are forced to endure all throughout their lives? Research even indicates that these children will be prone to depression themselves, a heartbreaking statistic, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I agree wholeheartedly!” Stiles cut in, not even giving Derek time to answer.

“It is deplorable to see, in black and white no less, that our society systematically crushes the souls of innocent children! Sadly, this is the atmosphere we have created for ourselves by not even giving them a chance from the start!”

The moderator nodded, and Derek glanced at Erica helplessly, then winced, wanting to punch himself when he remembered that the camera was probably focusing on every little twitch, every drop of sweat, every sign of uncertainty that would paint him as the loser of this debate.

“Care to comment Mr. Hale?”

The moderator and Stiles were both staring at him intently now and Derek licked his lips, at an absolute loss.

He wasn’t a good public speaker, especially not when he had to fly by the pants of his seat, and he had specifically prepared himself for talking about contract violations, not childhood depression.

He had never seen the statistics the two men were clearly familiar with, nor did he feel like stepping into the hornets nest by alienating viewers across the nation with an insensitive remark about _kids_ and with his mind completely drawing a blank he decided to just go ahead and stick to his script, accepting that the situation was unsalvageable for him at this point.

“It was my understanding that we were here to talk about contract violations and the fact that my company makes the terms of our working environment very clear when we hire new employees. In a country where businesses are free to make their own choices in regards to …”

“Yes, yes, contracts, rules, violations, we have all heard it many, many times before, first from Kate Argent, then your esteemed uncle, now you, day in and day out, no variation, no change of tune, no matter what the opposition has to say! I think we all agree with you Mr. Hale that yes, Danny Mahealani broke his contract when he hid his pregnancy for eight months, fact. What’s also fact is, however, that a man shouldn’t have to hide in the first place, because, and that’s also something we all seem to agree on, children are precious, though we obviously seem to make distinctions between them based on the gender of the body who nourished them, protected them, and carried them to term! That’s what we are talking about today, moving forward from this, learning from this, making sure that twenty years from now the statistics will look different. You and your company are clearly living in the past Mr. Hale and that seems to work for you, no doubt, but the ERC is looking towards the future, as mostly everyone in this free nation of ours, and it is my fervent hope that this future will be one in which _all_ children are treasured!”

Stiles’ tone never wavered, his expression earnest when he looked directly into the camera and Derek fidgeted on his chair, fighting his urge to slam his fist onto the table over his indignation about being interrupted.

The moderator looked at him coolly, waiting one, two, three beats to see what Derek would respond but when he continued to glare at Stiles the man sighed, turning back towards the camera to conclude the discussion, throwing in a reminder for the ERC’s next public event before the channel cut to commercials.

As soon as the red light turned off Derek pushed his chair back, the legs scraping over the floor with an ugly sound as he all but fled the studio, neither bothering to say goodbye to the biased moderator nor his opponent.

“Derek, wait!” Erica called after him but Derek wasn’t in the mood to hear anything right now, striding directly towards the men’s room and slamming the door shut, desperately needing to calm himself.

It had been a disaster, a complete and total disaster, worse even than Kate’s lemon-impression from a couple of weeks ago and what made him feel even angrier was that it had been so unfair towards him.

Not one of the questions that had been agreed to beforehand had been used and he had been cut out of the banter from the start, not even having the chance to win some sympathy points with the audience.

Angrily he swiped at his damp forehead, looking at his reflection in the mirror with distaste.

They had forced him into this because of his looks but now that seemed almost a farce, as he noted the sweat above his upper lip, the rings under his eyes that not even make-up had been able to hide, and the angry red splotches on his neck that were decidedly less attractive than Stiles’ flushed cheeks.

He angrily fumbled with his tie, loosening the constricting material and then pulling it off completely, opening the top buttons of his shirt in a desperate attempt to cool of his overheated skin, only to look at the proudly displayed hickey, which was even more visible under the bathroom’s fluorescents.

Groaning, Derek slammed a fist against the wall, only barely missing the mirror and hissing in pain when he inspected the cracked skin on his knuckles. He hadn’t broken anything out of sheer stupidity, thank god for small favors, but that was definitely going to hurt for a while.

Well, Derek thought bitterly, it wasn’t like the rest of his body was in prime fighting condition these days.

The door to the men’s room opened behind him and Derek was ready to snap at Erica, only to freeze when Stiles marched inside the room and came to an abrupt halt, staring at Derek in the mirror.

Derek took a deep breath, both to calm himself and to fight against the sudden feeling of wooziness that had been brought on by the pain in his hand and when he turned around Stiles narrowed his eyes at him, clearly taken aback by the rather disheveled state of his opponent.

He opened his mouth, seemingly intent on saying something, but suddenly the younger man’s expression froze, shock rapidly turning into anger and for a moment Derek felt at a complete loss, unsure what he had just done.

Stiles’ gaze seemed to burn a hole into his skin and all of a sudden Derek realized just what the younger man was staring at, the tips of his ears burning as he placed his hand over the hickey.

When he looked up again Stiles seemed furious, which made _no sense_ whatsoever and Derek glared back, feeling embarrassed and frustrated.

“Well isn’t that interesting,” Stiles snapped as he strode towards Derek with a heated look on his face.

“That was _fun_ , wasn’t it? How about you, I definitely had a good time, and from the looks of _this_ , so did you, isn’t that a grand coincidence?”

He sounded biter, _jealous_ , almost, and suddenly Derek could feel something inside his stomach flutter; a strange sensation, the type that could be classified as blink-or-miss.

He dismissed it, staring at Stiles angrily instead.

“What’s it to you?” he snapped with a hoarse voice and Stiles’ eyes twitched, an almost wounded look flitting over his face as he stared back at the hickey.

“You don’t … stuff like this doesn’t mean a whole bunch of anything to you does it? Damn, people used to tell me I was bad but I at least had the decency to always be kind to my hook-ups and not flaunt my earlier conquests in their fucking faces!”

Derek shook his head uncomprehendingly.

“I don’t … _fuck_ , I don’t …” he gritted out and now Stiles was taking a step forward so that they were practically nose-to-nose, staring at him in a way that reminded Derek of deep and utter betrayal.

“You don’t what? Fuck people? Pretty sure we’ve established that that’s not true, since I seem to remember you having a great time fucking me! Oh wait, no, that’s not what happened, right? I was the one who fucked _you_! Have to make the distinction, since that’s so very important to you! You know what Derek Hale? You’re a liar. A filthy, hypocritical liar who toys with other people’s emotions and whom I was stupid enough to almost fall … umph!”

Stiles had gotten so close to Derek that he had been able to actually smell his aftershave and even though his mind had screeched at him to stop, to not go there, he hadn’t been able to help himself, too keyed up, frustrated, and exhausted to be able to resist the temptation of Stiles’ lips so close to his own, the heat in his eyes that suggested anger but also … something else.

For a split second Stiles seemed willing to return the almost bruising kiss, lips moving against Derek’s, but then he went completely slack, taking one, two, three seconds, before he brought up his hands and shoved them against Derek’s chest and stomach, pushing him back with so much force that Derek, whose balance had been a bit wonky for the past days anyways, stumbled backwards uncoordinatedly, his path stopped by the edge of the sink when he slammed into it with his back, the pain exploding all around his middle sharp enough to kill his physical arousal and pull him out of his dazed state.

He groaned in pain, hands grabbing at his back while his eyes were watering and when he met Stiles’ gaze the younger man was pale, shaking with barely controlled rage and something that looked close to disgust.

“We won’t talk about this again, _Mr. Hale_!” he snapped icily, over-enunciating every single word.

“That was harassment and if you ever so much as lay a finger on me again you will _not_ like what will happen!”

Without waiting for Derek’s reply he turned around and stormed out of the room, opening the door to reveal a tense looking Erica and Boyd whom he stormed past without a single word.

When Stiles was gone Derek felt his knees buckling, the pain in his back worsening steadily, though it was almost nothing compared to the turmoil of his mind.

He barely realized Boyd rushing forward to hold him upright, shivering and gasping, just on the edge of a panic attack and then Erica was there, her hands cool on his face as she started talking to him, her voice soothing and steady.

Slowly, Derek forced himself to regain control, only when he did and the true extent of what he had just done revealed itself to him he jerked out of Boyd’s hold, throwing open a stall door and dropping to his knees to expel the contents of his stomach.

When it was over Erica was kneeling at his side, her hand rubbing circles into his back.

“You are definitely going to go home with us today, there is not going to be a debate about it!” she said firmly, holding out her hand to him to help him up, but as soon as Derek was standing upright he doubled over, gasping in pain when his back cramped up badly, the sensation radiating all around his waist and ending in his lower belly.

“Do we need to take you the hospital Derek?” Boyd asked, voice concerned, and Derek shook his head, taking a deep breath when the pain became more manageable.

“I had a backache all day, he just aggravated it when he pushed me. I’ll be fine,” he rasped, draping his arm across his assistant’s shoulders when Erica slung her own arm around his waist to steady him.

For a split second Derek could feel his assistant hesitate as she clearly noticed the soft swell of his abdomen, still fairly well hidden by the new shirt. His back tensed again, however, and he gasped, leading Erica to tighten her grip on his waist without a word.

The walk to the car was excruciating and by the time Erica gently pushed him onto the mattress of her and Boyd’s king-size bed, having ignored his insistence on taking the couch, Derek was so tired he was about ready to pass out, despite the still lingering pain, though it wasn’t nearly as bad as in the studio’s bathroom.

Boyd kissed Erica’s head softly, grabbing a blanket from the closet before he shut the door behind him and Derek closed his eyes when Erica changed into her pajamas quickly, only opening them again when he could feel the dip of the mattress as his assistant rolled onto her side and propped her head up, hesitantly stroking across his arm as she looked at him with worry.

“I’m not even going to talk to you about how the debate went right now, because I’m pretty sure you know how it went just fine, but Derek, what in the world happened in that bathroom? We could hear the sound of you slamming against that sink and then Stiles hissed something and stormed out of the bathroom looking like someone had just died, while you were about to have a panic attack and then almost fainted on us. That’s not how tonight was supposed to go at all so I just wondered if you maybe wanted to talk about it?”

“I kissed him,” Derek said quietly, no longer able to keep his self-hatred bottled up and Erica made a surprised sound, the hand on his arm stilling temporarily.

“That … was a bad thing? I mean, obviously it was, but I mean …. well, what exactly did you do?”

“He didn’t shut up about my hickey – like that was in any way his fucking business – and then he was right in front of me and looking at me like he wanted me! I wasn’t thinking and I kissed him! And it turns out I was mistaken, because he _really_ didn’t want that! I guess I’ve finally stooped down to Kate’s level, considering I basically ra…”

“Oh shut up Derek!” Erica exclaimed, a look of understanding flitting over her face, followed by fury.

“That is in no way comparable and you know it! Is it ok to kiss people without their consent? No! The hell it is, and he had every right in the world to push you away, don’t get me wrong. But you are not going to go and take the pity train of self-hatred into Argent-Town, because you are nothing like Kate Argent and I will punch you even harder than Stiles did if you think like that for another second! You get me?” she asked firmly and Derek pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, stomach once again churning unpleasantly.

“Even a little bit of molestation is still molestation! I crossed a line and if he wants to have me arrested I guess I’ll …”

“Derek, what do you want me to do? Do you want me to call the police? Yes, you shouldn’t have done it! Yes, he had every right to push you away! Yes, you need to apologize to him and make it clear that you understand that you crossed a line and that you won’t repeat it! But based on your reaction in that bathroom you are punishing yourself even more right now than Stiles and the police combined could!”

She sighed deeply, giving him a stern look.

“I’m going to consent hell for saying this, but just so you know I could hear part of what you guys were saying from the outside and he started with the sex taunts! You say he was fixated on your hickey like some jealous lover? Well, I’m sorry, but the entire situation was clearly sexual from the start and you were both sending mixed signals like crazy!”

Derek opened his mouth to reply but she held up her hand, stopping him in his tracks.

“I told him you were in there and that you weren’t feeling well and he marched inside regardless, I don’t even know why! In any case, this wasn’t you mistaking Stiles ‘asking for it’, this was Stiles very deliberately taunting you about your sex-life and getting way too close into your personal space from what it looked like! Your reaction was bad, but he was out of line, too, so how about you apologize to him tomorrow, call, text, email, whatever, and then we are going to focus on the PR disaster that is about to rain down upon the company after tonight’s epic failure! And just so you know, Stiles will accept your apology, because if I know him as well as I think I do he is probably feeling horrible right now for pushing you so hard that you were clearly in pain!”

She sighed, stroking her hand through his hair.

“Derek you are both important to me, I don’t really know what to say to you otherwise. But please listen to me, and get it into your brain because after that spectacle in the bathroom you clearly need to hear it. A little over two years ago Kate Argent came to your loft and demanded that you fuck her against the wall so she could blow off some steam after an argument with your uncle. Your relationship was already failing and you refused, offering to make her a drink instead, not quite having the heart to throw her out but also not wanting to have sex with her that night, which was your right. Only Kate decided to make the drinks herself, and, while you weren’t looking, put enough alcohol in yours to knock out an elephant and, when you were so drunk you were practically cross-eyed but still able to get it up, she pushed you onto the bed and climbed on top of you. She then left you passed out afterwards and if I hadn’t had a key to your apartment back then you might have choked on your own vomit the next morning! That is what _Kate_ did! What _you_ did was kiss a guy, a guy who was in full possession of his faculties and who stopped you almost immediately! You wouldn’t have forced yourself on him again after that, even if he hadn’t almost broken your spine, and that’s what makes you different from Kate fucking Argent, who, in my opinion should be in prison, only _someone_ didn’t press charges because his uncle made it crystal clear that men who cried rape were pussies and if you had managed to get it up at least a part of you had clearly wanted it, considering she was still your girlfriend and all! Apples and horribly rotten oranges Derek! Don’t ever confuse the two!”

Derek squeezed his eyes shut, partly because even after two years he could still barely think about that night, partly because of the pain he was in, hands massaging his abdomen, which was still feeling unsettlingly cramped.

Erica winced in sympathy.

“That bad still?” she asked and Derek shrugged, feeling a little frightened without knowing why.

“I don’t know,” he muttered and Erica sat up, rummaging through her bedside table drawer.

When she turned back towards him she was holding two ibuprofen, and even though he knew that you weren’t supposed to take those on an empty stomach Derek accepted them gratefully, hoping they would take effect quickly.

“I worry about you boss. I worry about you a lot,” Erica whispered after she had turned off the light and Derek reached for her hand, finding it and squeezing it tightly.

“I know and I’m grateful. I am trying, I promise I am; this is just a very bad year I guess. And I get what you are saying. About the apples and the rotten oranges. But what I did tonight was definitely a brown spot on the apple and it can never happen again,” he replied softly.

Erica squeezed his hand back, thumb stroking over his skin.

“And it won’t. I know it won’t. And maybe, just maybe, one of these days Kate Argent will finally have to answer for breaking you so badly that you think you deserve all the bad things in the world.”

Derek, who would never be able to forgive his uncle for trying to make him think he was acting like a whiny baby after he had been the first and only member of his family to hear about what Kate had done, sighed.

Apart from him and Peter only Kate and Erica knew about it, the latter because Derek, who rarely drank and almost never got drunk on principle, had gotten completely smashed during a business trip with Erica shortly after and confessed to her in a dark alleyway behind a bar, where he had barely made it to throw up after getting kicked out of the establishment.

He had sworn her to secrecy and Erica had tried her very best, but she hadn’t spoken a single friendly word to Kate ever since and it had helped make Derek feel better knowing that there was at least one person in his corner.

Erica had once asked him why he hadn’t told his sisters and Derek had balked, the thought of them possibly reacting like Peter too painful to even imagine.

Erica’s breathing evened out eventually and for a while Derek just concentrated on the rhythmic sound, noting with relief that the ibuprofen had obviously kicked in.

He was ready to fall asleep himself when the odd fluttering from the men’s room returned, a little higher up in his abdomen this time and once again gone before he had even truly registered it.

It was probably nerves, Derek decided; nerves or some wonky issue with his digestion, an even likelier explanation given all the frequent bathroom trips lately.

As he finally fell asleep his hand was curled around his belly, images of Stiles’ disgusted expression following him all the way into his nightmares, though after his talk with Erica Derek was no longer quite sure if the disgust had actually been aimed at him or at the younger man himself.

When he wrote Stiles a short email to apologize for crossing a line the next morning, he was both disappointed and relieved when Stiles’ only reply was short and impersonal.

_Crossed a line, too._

_Truly sorry._

_Won’t happen again._

_S. Stilinski_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Instances of Dub-Con:
> 
> \- Derek and the Guy in the Club, who hits on Derek because he is attracted to the idea of having sex with a pregnant carrier, while Derek is unaware what is going on  
> \- Derek misreads an expression on Stiles' face (at least he believes he does) and kisses him without getting consent first, leading Stiles to roughly push him away. 
> 
> Past Non-Con:
> 
> \- Kate gets Derek drunk and sleeps with him after he already made clear he didn't want to have sex with her. When Derek confides in his uncle afterwards Peter tells him that men can't get raped, especially not when they are in relationships
> 
> Alright, here's my reasoning: I've said from the beginning that while this is an AU I tried to make characters and their relationships reflect at least some part of canon and even though Jeff Davis (and Hoechlin in interviews, though if you look at his face when he gets asked "So, Derek definitely should have PTSD, why don't you play him like that?" you can - in my opinion - tell that he also considers this lack of acknowledging Derek's dramatic backstory a completely wasted opportunity for the character) likes to sweep it under the rug, Derek in canon is a repeated victim of sexual abuse: first Kate Argent, whose sexual encounters with him qualify as statutory rape regardless of whether or not Derek thought he was consenting, then Jennifer, a murderer who slept with him under seriously false pretenses to use him as a tool. 
> 
> Therefore, I decided to use this for the story, which, as I've mentioned, is set in a dystopian universe. As for Peter's reaction: Peter goes above and beyond in canon to cause his family members pain if it advances his own gain, so when Derek made some noise about calling the police and creating a huge media scandal that could have tarnished the firm's reputation Peter had to act and in doing so spared no thought to Derek's feelings. Pretty sure that's also more or less canon-compliant. 
> 
> This chapter was necessary to set up some of the events of the last part of the story, but I promise we're done with the sexual non-con. 
> 
>  
> 
> In fact, we are moving on to the second act story-wise. 
> 
> Next Update: Tuesday: 04/21  
> Chapter Title: "Where There's a Kick There's a Baby"  
> Chapter Summary: Derek's state of oblivion comes to a very abrupt end. 
> 
> P.S: I'm currently in the UTC-06:00 time-zone, so update dates will correspond to that until further notice ;).


	9. Where There's a Kick There's a Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek's state of oblivion comes to a very abrupt end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp, editing went quicker than I thought it would, so have the big revelation chapter a day early! 
> 
> On a general note: I said in the beginning that this is the longest fan fic I have ever written and that it is going to be slow-build.
> 
> This is chapter 9 of 22, so you can probably tell I meant it ;). 
> 
> Story-telling wise we're getting into the second act now (length-wise it's definitely shorter than act one and act three, but you'll see why I call it a different act once we get to act three).

**_20 Weeks_ **

If he had known about his carrier-status all along, Derek would have been required to attend the mandatory biology classes in which male-carriers were informed about the inner workings of male pregnancy, its symptoms, the minimal ways in which it differed from female pregnancy, and the ways in which to prevent it.

Had he attended these classes he would have undoubtedly been able to put the signs together much earlier: the headaches, the fatigue, the recurring nausea, the ligament pains, the darkening of certain parts of his skin, the dizzy spells, the odd changes in his mood, as well as the tiny bulge that had begun to protrude from his pelvis lately, still easily camouflaged with a longer shirt.

Instead of chalking it up to uneasy digestion he would have definitely paid more attention to the odd fluttering in his belly, which, after the unfortunate bathroom run-in with Stiles, he had continued to experience on and off for almost two weeks before the event occurred that threw his entire life upside-down.

It happened on a Friday, fifteen minutes before yet another executive meeting with Peter, Chris, Kate, Laura, and the other department heads.

Derek was gathering his notes, not particularly in the mood to report on the steadily increasing protest-mails their servers were spammed with, nor the two attempts to hack the website this week alone, when he suddenly felt a thump against his belly.

That in itself wouldn’t have been so strange, he was, after all, shuffling papers and boxes around on his desk, only he was certain that the thump had come from the inside.

And that was, frankly, completely insane, not to mention impossible.

Frowning, Derek looked down at the offending body party in question, pulling up his shirt to get a good look at it.

His belly looked normal, maybe just a little bit rounder than when he had last paid attention to it, but there was nothing there he could see that would explain the strange sensation, which meant that, on top of all the weird aches he had experienced lately, he was now suffering from stress-induced hallucinations.

Sighing, Derek shook his head, letting his hand coming to rest on the protrusion and rubbing lightly, automatically, as he stared out of the window.

When the thump – a kick, it felt more like a kick – came again, a deeply startled Derek noticed three things in rapid succession.

One, the movement had definitely come from inside his stomach; there was no doubt about it.

Two, the light outside was hitting the window just so that it acted as a full-body mirror, providing Derek with a clear reflection of himself, his rounded belly, and the hand that was still resting on it in a protective manner, the image evoking associations that made his breath catch in his throat and his stomach clench unpleasantly as his pulse began to quicken.

Three, he was going to be sick.

Also no doubt about it.

His eyes widening, Derek jerked his shirt back down rapidly, bolting out of the office and past Erica, ignoring her concerned “Derek?” as he sprinted towards the bathroom, down the hall, barely managing to lock the stall door behind him before he wrenched open the lid and fell to his knees, becoming violently ill.

When it was over and he had flushed the toilet he laughed shakily, bordering on the edge of hysterical even to his own ears, leaning back on his calves and once again pulling up his shirt with trembling fingers.

What he had dismissed as a little bit of extra weight only moments earlier now looked sheer enormous, terrifying him to the core as he poked and prodded at his skin, scared out of his mind in anticipation of feeling the movement again.

Unless something was seriously – very seriously – wrong with him there was only one possible explanation for the kicking sensation he had felt deep inside of him, an explanation that he didn’t even think about twice given the fact that he had been talking about carriers and their rights for weeks now.  

Only that explanation was not only completely impossible but also unacceptable and for a moment Derek wondered if this was what going mad felt like.

“I’m not even a carrier!” Derek whispered, pushing a finger into his sore belly button with just enough force to make it painful.

“There’s nothing in there! I’m not a carrier, there _can’t_ be anything in there!” he repeated to himself again and again, forcing himself to breathe through his nose, afraid he’d throw up again if he opened his mouth even an inch.

The movement did not repeat itself and Derek dropped his head onto the cool lid of the toilet, letting out a relieved sob.

He was being ridiculous, stressed out of his mind and overworked most likely, to the point of hallucinating baby-kicks in a body with no incubator for said baby.

There was a knock on the door to the men’s room, Erica’s voice muffled as it carried through the door and the stall-door.

“Technically I can’t come in here, but if you don’t tell me you’re ok so help me god, I’m coming in Derek!” she yelled, sounding more than a little panicked, and Derek stood up quickly, thrusting out his hands to steady himself when he was hit by spell of dizziness.

“Not pregnant, this doesn’t mean anything, I just stood up too quickly, it happens all the time,” he whispered to himself, squeezing his eyes shut firmly and taking deep, gulping breaths, trying to ignore that ‘all the time’ hadn’t started until a couple of months ago.

“I’m fine Erica, I’ll be out in a sec,” he said loudly, chuckling weakly despite his still rapidly beating heart and the sweat dripping down his back when Erica yelled back, “You better, you’re already five minutes late to your damn meeting!”

Pushing all thoughts of movement, impossible babies and his lack of a uterus out of his mind Derek straightened up, pulling down his shirt quickly and stepping outside the stall to splash some cold water on his face and neck.

He looked terrible, his eyes blown wide open and his face pale, but there was nothing he could do about that now, Derek decided, bracing himself for Erica’s outburst when he stepped outside the bathroom.

His assistant was waiting for him, his sorted notes already arranged in a folder, though instead of giving it to him she was clutching it to her chest, her expression deeply concerned.

“What was that all about?” she asked, not moving an inch when Derek held out his hands for the folder and Derek sighed, raking a hand through his hair.

“I think the lox bagel was bad, it came on really quickly,” he lied, figuring there was no use in trying to hide the fact that he had just puked his guts out from Erica.

Erica winced.

“I’m sorry Derek, I thought it looked fresh,” she said unhappily, the explanation apparently satisfactory enough that she handed over the folder to Derek, though her eyes did not leave his face.

“You still look really shaky. To be honest, I think you should go home and rest. I had food poisoning from a lox bagel once and it was so bad that I couldn’t eat smoked salmon for almost five years. Which was a damn shame, because I _love_ smoked salmon,” she said quickly, her hand reaching out to touch Derek’s sweaty forehead.

“You’re kind of warm, too,” she observed and Derek shrugged sheepishly.

“Exerting yourself while projectile vomiting does that to a person,” he replied, his words having the desired effect when Erica wrinkled her nose and the rest of the tension slipped out of her face and shoulders.

“Gross, boss. You’re absolutely gross, like all men. Seriously though, I’ll page Peter and tell him I accidentally poisoned you. I am mostly familiar with your notes so I can give them the light version if you want, you still look like you’re about to keel over. Trust me, collapsing mid-presentation with a stomach-cramp so bad you’ll think back fondly to the Horrible Period of Pure Evil of 2009 is not something you want to be doing today.”

Derek rubbed a hand over his eyes, thinking.

He really didn’t feel all that bad anymore, not physically, at least, but there was a horrible nagging doubt in the back of his mind now, a thought that was still too ludicrous for him to even fully comprehend.

For a moment he wondered how he would react if the impossible thumping sensation in his belly returned while he was in the middle of his presentation and whatever that thought did to his complexion Erica clearly didn’t like because she immediately grabbed his arm, barking out an alarmed, “Derek?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine, but I think you’re right. I need to go home and sleep for days,” he said after a moment and Erica nodded.

“I’ll make sure one of the drivers is waiting for you downstairs. And then I’ll go into the lion’s den and face your lunatic family’s wrath. And the Argents. Who might be worse. I’m undecided.”

Derek nodded with a half-smile, wondering what he would do without her as she walked over to the elevator, throwing a last concerned glance at him over her shoulder.

The driver was one of their older ones, a worn-looking man in his late 50s and Derek appreciated the man’s lack of chit-chat as he rested his forehead against the cool glass of the window on the way home, fighting hard against the urge to rest his hands on his belly.

He was still fighting the same urge later that night, as he tossed and turned in his bed to find a comfortable sleeping position, his brain running a mile a minute as he tried to convince himself that what he was thinking was impossible.

It was almost 2 in the morning when he gave up on falling asleep the natural way, shuffling into the kitchen area with a grimace as he hunted for his Zzzzquil.

Unbidden, his eyes lingered on the expensive Whiskey his uncle had once again gotten him for his last birthday, still mostly full as he hardly ever drank alone and entertained rarely.

Whiskey would certainly do the trick, Derek decided, pulling the bottle out of the cabinet and getting a glass from another.

He could do this.

After all, he wasn’t pregnant, couldn’t get pregnant, and had been stupid to think so in the first place.

His hands were shaking as he poured a double-shot, some of it sloshing on the counter and he cursed, grabbing a towel to wipe up the mess as his brain continued to chant _Not pregnant_ at him in an increasingly desperate voice.

With the glass in hand he returned to his bed, trying not to think about the fact that he hadn’t had a drink in months, not a single one ever since the night after his argument with Stiles, when he had eventually decided to get drunk instead of picking up a random man at the _Jungle_.

He had never been a big drinker but he liked wine or whiskey on occasion he just … simply hadn’t felt like it in a long time.

Five months, in fact.

_Maybe there’s a reason why you didn’t feel like drinking, what do you think about that? Maybe that reason has been growing inside you for months while you were a stupid, oblivious idiot._

Derek’s mind nagged at him and, full glass still in hand, he finally gave in to the urge he had been fighting all evening and placed his palm on the protrusion that was straining against the soft sleep t-shirt he had started wearing when the sensation of his comforter on his bare chest had become too uncomfortable.

Holding his breath Derek slid his palm down the curve, then up again, noting how different, how alien his own body suddenly felt to him.

Unbidden, his eyes flickered up to the full-body mirror by the bed and he stared at his reflection, taking in the exhaustion and fear he was radiating, the way one hand was resting against his abdomen and the glass of alcohol in the other and he shook his head firmly, telling himself that the only thing wrong about this image was the terrified look in his eyes.

Slowly, as if to spite his own reflection, Derek took a sip of the drink, the burn trickling down his throat as he raised the glass to his lips again.

Ten seconds later he barely managed to wrench up the lid of the toilet before becoming ill for the second time that day, his eyes tearing up with the force of his heaves and when it was over he let out a pained whine, holding on to the edge of the seat with one hand while his other was firmly pressed against his stomach.

“This doesn’t mean anything! There’s nothing in here!” he whispered, the mantra repeating itself in his head over and over again until he finally fell into an uneasy sleep.

When he woke up the next morning his head was pounding, as if he had actually finished the entire bottle rather than throw up the two sips he had managed.

He was overworked, it was plain and simple, and the treatment was rest and relaxation, which was why Derek decided to stay in bed for most of the day, figuring that the lingering nausea would go away eventually if he just didn’t move one inch.

It was because he didn’t want to throw up again, definitely, not because he was trying to pay attention to what was going on inside of him, anxious to see if the thumping – _kicking,_ his mind nagged at him – sensation would come again.

People got misdiagnosed all the time, sure … well, not all the time, but it happened, only Derek’s family had access to the best healthcare in the country and there was no reality in which it was possible.

Yet, the alternative was simply too unthinkable.

By the time the evening rolled around Derek finally allowed himself to relax, once again telling himself that he had temporarily lost his mind at the office the other day, that there was no kicking, thumping, or anything going on in his belly, that the curve of it was normal for a man his age who was no longer frequently going to the gym, and that there was simply no way he could possibly be pregnant in the first place.

He was in the middle of pulling lasagna out of the oven – hunger having finally outweighed the nausea that had gripped him for most of the day – when he felt the kicking sensation again. This time he could feel it even stronger than yesterday, now that he knew what to look for.

Derek jerked, dropping the hot pan and burning his wrist as it clattered to the floor, spilling meat and tomato sauce all over the ground.

Another kick, almost as if to ask _Are you alright out there?_ , and Derek cursed, making a beeline for the sink to hold his burned wrist under the faucet.

It didn’t look pretty, the skin already flaming red, but he didn’t think he would have to go to the ER – hell, the ER was the _last_ place he wanted to be right now – and the stinging pain was almost enough to distract him from the third movement, this time even stronger, as if it was a response to his distress.

Shaking, Derek pulled his shirt up with his free hand, staring at his stretched skin in fear.

“There’s nothing there!” he whispered, shivering as his hand began to go numb from the icy water.

“This is crazy! There _can’t_ be anything there; this is utterly, completely crazy! I’m not pregnant, I’m _not_ …”

Another kick, and suddenly Derek felt like he couldn’t quite breathe anymore.

He could feel his heartbeat speeding up as his mind finally allowed him to connect the dots, the rising panic in his chest making him feel nauseous once more.

 _Pregnant_.

The never-ending exhaustion at the beginning of the year that he had attributed to normal winter-fatigue, despite never having had any issues with that before.

 _Pregnant_.

The prolonged stomach flu at the beginning of March that, upon closer inspection, had hit him just roughly seven to eight weeks after he had had sex with Stiles, making morning sickness as a likely culprit all the more plausible.

 _Pregnant_.

The changes in his skin, the itchiness and dry spots, as well as his steadily darkening nipples, which had been sensitive to the point of painful for months now.

The heartburn, triggered by completely random foods, as well as the various aches and pains he had experienced around his groin, hip, and back area these past couple of weeks, all of them clear signs for the readjustments taking place inside of him.

The strange moods that especially Erica had had to suffer under, the even stranger food cravings, all of these things made sense now.

 _Pregnant_.

Last but not least, the weight gain despite no drastic changes in his diet, manifesting itself only in his stomach area.

It all made sense.

Horrible, impossible, perfect sense.

And there was only one thing left to do.

 

=============

 

The drugstore was about ten subway stations away from his apartment complex, in a rather sketchy neighborhood that made Derek’s already frayed nerves stay even more on edge, his burned wrist throbbing angrily under the half-heartedly wrapped bandage.

He had chosen this drugstore because he didn’t want to be recognized by people he knew under any circumstances, and as he walked up and down the aisle of the pregnancy tests Derek once again felt like screaming.

He was not a carrier; his identification documents and medical records made that perfectly clear.

There was no reason for him to be staring at the tiny selection of male carrier pregnancy tests the store offered, his hands pushed into his jacket pockets and most of his face hidden under a large baseball cap.

Not to mention the huge sunglasses, a decidedly douchey thing to wear inside of a store while it was already dark outside.

It should have been impossible, he shouldn’t even have to entertain the thought for one second, but his hands inside his jacket pockets were brushing against the roundness of his belly with every move he made, a tactile reminder that this wasn’t a nightmare, that this was real and his life was about to fall apart completely.

Groaning softly in frustration, Derek finally grabbed two of the more expensive brands and headed towards the checkout counter, where a man in his early fifties was doing a crossword puzzle with a rather bored look on his face.

Derek’s gaze was fixed on the packages as he put them on the counter, determined to avoid any sort of eye contact with the man, but when he heard a scoff he looked up, regretting it almost immediately.

The man was staring at him with a look of contempt on his face, his gaze flitting back and forth between the tests and Derek’s midsection, where the soft swell was still fairly well hidden by his jacket.

“For you then?” the man asked, his tone decidedly cold as his lips curled into a derisive sneer and his eyes became sharper.

Derek swallowed heavily, too caught off guard to muster any protest about how inappropriate the entire conversation was.

“I … boyfriend,” he stuttered, hating himself immediately.

The cashier’s expression turned from disgust into something that almost resembled pity and it made Derek’s stomach churn.

“Tricked you, huh? Bet you wouldn’t have if you’d known,” the cashier offered as he rang up the items and dropped them into a bag.

“I didn’t know,” Derek confirmed, biting his lip to keep himself from breaking out into hysterical laughter at how true that sentiment rang.

“Sucks for you man,” the cashier grunted, handing over his change and pushing the boxes towards Derek with the tips of his fingers.

“Good luck – and if you want my advice, if he _isn’t_ pregnant with your kid after all, you should go and dump his freak-of-nature ass. Or if he is, maybe you should dump him anyways, since it’s probably not even yours to begin with. They sleep around a lot, you know? Most of them can’t even wait to get all fat and swollen with some bastard spawn, makes them feel all hot and tingly in their girly parts. Man, those pussy-boys shouldn’t have any rights at all, I’m glad _real_ men are finally speaking up about it!”

He nodded his head towards a newspaper stand and Derek’s heart galloped when he recognized himself on the cover, surrounded by various hateful quotes and headlines.

Without a word he grabbed his bag and left the store, suddenly terrified the cashier might recognize him after all and by the time he set foot inside his loft again he was drenched in sweat, partly because of the warm May night and partly because he was freaked out of his mind.

He had four tests total and even though it was obvious what the result was going to be, driven home painfully by the sharp kick he felt against his ribs as he unfastened his jeans with trembling fingers, he still needed it, needed to see the plus sign on the stick to fully comprehend the horrible mess he had gotten himself into.

An hour later Derek was curled up on his bed, trying to ignore the four positive pregnancy tests strewn all over the floor where they had bounced off the wall.

He was breathing heavily in the secure darkness of his home, knees pulled up as far as they could go with the hard protrusion in the way and his arms wrapped around them as he tried to rock himself into at least a semblance of calm.

 _The fetal position? How appropriate, given you’ve been unknowingly schlepping a fetus around with you for months_ , his mind supplied, the inner voice sounding rather high-pitched in his panic and Derek groaned, pushing his hands into his skin so hard that it almost hurt.

There was a kick in reply, as if in protest, and he let go immediately, legs uncurling as he rolled over on his belly, then immediately rolled back on his side when he realized he would probably squish something.

As he stared into the darkness his mind flashed over the past months, remembering inexplicable aches and strange sensations, nausea and fatigue, the first time he had noticed that something about his stomach had been different, the first time he had brushed against his nipples and hissed in pain, the way he had had to catch his balance multiple times over the past two weeks, wondering why he was almost clumsier than Stiles all of a …

 _Stiles_.

Derek’s mind came to a screeching halt and he shot upright, a horrified whine bursting from his throat before he could even think of keeping it in.

It took two people to make a baby and though his mind had somehow kept him from fully realizing that particular truth for the past couple of hours it was very clear to him now, horribly so, in fact.

There was only one person who could have gotten him pregnant, and Derek had spent the past few weeks arguing with him on national television and done everything humanly possible to make Stiles hate him until hell froze over.

It made him feel like the universe had literally punched him in the gut, gasping as if he had been hit in the solar plexus.

More kicking, and Derek’s eyes widened, some instinct apparently kicking in when he noticed the fetus’ distress and he took large, gulping breaths, digging his hands into his thighs to catch a grip.

He felt overheated and so he climbed out of his bed to walk out on the balcony of the loft, the cool air a blessed relief when he opened the door.

Derek took a deep breath and then braced his arms on the railing, dropping his head onto them as he focused on breathing for a while, grateful that his loft was the highest apartment and no one could see him.

After what seemed like hours but were probably less than ten minutes he lifted his head from his arms, staring out over the blinking lights of his hometown.

The facts, now that he could finally think clearly again, were as follows.

He was pregnant. Fact.

Probably about five months along, considering he had had sex with Stiles in the first week of January and it was now May. Fact.

Pregnancies lasted about forty weeks, so he had about five months left to figure out what to do next. Fact.

It wasn’t a long time, but definitely better than those poor people he had once seen on reality TV who claimed they hadn’t known they were pregnant until the children had pretty much breached the birth canal. Fact.

He would have to read up on male carrier pregnancy and what to expect because he had no freaking clue and had probably already done a bunch of things that could have harmed the life growing inside of him.

Something like drinking alcohol, as he had almost done last night.

A rather terrifying fact indeed.

Unbidden, Derek’s mind flashed back to his unfortunate encounter with Stiles in the bathroom, the way Stiles had pushed him against the sink and the horrible pain in his back and midsection that had lingered for days afterwards and forced him to spend almost the entire weekend in bed before he had been able to move again without experiencing the sharp twinges of pain in his back.

Shaking, Derek placed his hands on his belly, remembering the inexplicable fear that had gripped him when his abdominal muscles had contracted on and off during the night he had spent at Erica’s place, how he had willed it to stop and been beyond relieved when it finally had in the morning hours.

Whatever had been triggered with that collision had obviously not killed the baby, the kicking made that obvious, but now that he knew it was there Derek could feel the bottom of his stomach drop out at the thought that something could have happened, that he could have lost the baby right there in that bathroom.

It was ridiculous, really, he didn’t want this, he was terrified of this; it was the most horrible nightmare he could have ever imagined happening to him, but the thought of something happening to _it_ was almost enough to make him scream.

For a short, horrible moment he thought about getting rid of it, of solving the problem before it could actually become a problem, but he didn’t even need to feel a kick to know that he could never go through it with it, _especially_ not after having felt the baby move.

Maybe it was some strange sort of instant paternal instinct, but the one thing he knew right now was that, despite all the pain this would inevitably cause him and the people around him, he had to protect the tiny little life that was completely innocent and had not asked to be involved with all of this mess.

The kicks had to mean the baby was fine, they _had_ to, and Derek wasn’t about to send himself into another full-blown panic attack by believing it wasn’t.

He could have gone to the ER, to make sure everything was fine, but he quickly dismissed the thought. He didn’t even want to imagine the scandal it would cause if someone took a picture of him being led towards the OBGYN ward, let alone live through the experience.

He also couldn’t go to Jennifer, even though there was a quickly growing part of him that wanted to shake her, scream at her, and demand answers for why he was pregnant when she had diagnosed him as a non-carrier 16 years ago.

Yet, he was also painfully aware that the doctor – for reasons that he didn’t even want to imagine – was beholden to his uncle and he had no doubt that if he were to go to her, Peter would find out about the pregnancy right after and that thought scared him even more than having to tell Stiles.

Lastly, it was no secret that there were few carrier-specialized OBGYNs who were respected within the community he had apparently unknowingly belonged to all his life. In fact, the only one he could think of was Melissa McCall, and the thought of exposing his secret to the mother of Stiles’ best friend was enough to make his pulse quicken again.

There was no reason to believe the woman would go against the oath she had sworn, but he was Derek Anti-Carrier-Advocate Hale and the situation was as far away from normal as it could go.

The air was getting colder now and Derek shivered, deciding to go back inside because he wanted to avoid catching a cold.

Having a cold while pregnant probably wasn’t the best idea in the world, that much he knew at least.

When he passed the full body mirror in the corner of his bedroom area he paused, turning and examining himself from all angles, pulling off his shirt to get a better look.

Now that he was really, truly looking at it, it seemed laughable that he hadn’t noticed what this was and when he turned sideways and framed his belly with both hands he snorted loudly, the pose the picture-perfect example of male carriers on pamphlets.

The only thing he was missing was the other father’s hands framing his belly with him, pressed against the small of his back and chin tucked over his shoulder as they both looked down at their very own miracle of life.

 _Stiles_.

Stiles was the father of his baby. Check, fact, jackpot, clusterfuck, whatever one wanted to call it, that was the one truth that was possibly even more terrifying than the fact he was pregnant in the first place.

Which, even as a misdiagnosed carrier, should have been impossible. Fact.

Derek racked his brain furiously, thinking back to that night and wondering what had happened.

They had used condoms both times, he had seen Stiles hold on to the base while pulling out, had actually been the one holding on to the base as he had pulled off of him that first time, so it wasn’t like they had messed up with the mechanics of it.

That left the condoms themselves and now that he was really thinking about it Derek did remember a tiny trickle of dried _something_ on his thigh as he had gotten a shower the next morning, but he had shrugged it off as his own, considering he had woken up with a rather impressive case of morning wood.

And yes, there had been a couple of wet patches on the sheets, but Stiles had been over-generous with the lube so that had also made sense.

He had stored the condoms at a moderate temperature in the drawer of his nightstand, they couldn’t have gone bad because of external influences, Stiles’ nails had been short enough to make scratching a tear into them an unlikely possibility, and they had still been fresh enough to …

Derek’s inner voice produced a very, _very_ judgmental snort and he made a frustrated sound because whelp, the last time he had actually gone out and bought condoms had been almost a year before Kate, who had been on the pill and insisted he didn’t use them, which meant that no, they probably hadn’t been all that fresh anymore.

Three minutes and some rather undignified grunting later Derek was staring at the expiration date on the back of the condom box, having retrieved it from where Stiles had thrown it under the bed.

08/30/13

More than four months before Stiles, thinking he was protecting them both from possible diseases, had rolled the expired condom down his shaft and, courtesy of Derek failing the most basic of safe sex rules, had proceeded to successfully put a baby inside him.

Or maybe it had been the one Stiles had stored in his wallet that had broken, Derek thought five minutes later when he skimmed over the information on the condom company’s website and read the risks of storing condoms in wallets on the FAQ page.

Whichever it had been, _it_ was here now and when he looked down at his skin and once again saw how far it was already distended, he realized it would be only a matter of time now before everyone else knew about _it_ as well.

Including Stiles.

Who hated him these days and would probably be disgusted at even the thought of having gotten him pregnant.

Or Peter and Laura, who would at best be outraged and disgusted and at worst kick him out of the company and financially and emotionally destroy him and the child.

Derek was willing to bet money it would be the latter.

He sank down onto the bed, hunching over and resting his head on his hands as he took inventory of his physical state, cataloging every discomfort and comparing it to the downright miserable way he had been feeling for months.

Derek might have been oblivious to the root cause of this and his knowledge of the actual physicality of carrier pregnancies was limited, but he knew that this would only get more and more difficult for his body.

This wasn’t something he could do on his own; he could maybe get away with hiding the pregnancy up until the end, but then? Pregnancies tended to result in a birth and Derek’s throat closed up as he imagined having to give birth alone in this loft without a single clue what he was doing, which would probably end up killing the child and himself.

No, he couldn’t do this alone, at least not in the long run – but he could keep the secret a little while longer, just until he had figured out how break it to his family in a way that wouldn’t end up destroying everything.

Just until he himself had come to terms with this unforeseen life-altering event.

Just until he had figured out how the hell he could possibly tell Stiles that he had completely ruined the younger man’s life.

One thing he knew for sure though – the public could never, _ever_ know about this.

He had turned himself into a polarizing figure in the past weeks, celebrated and applauded by the anti-carrier rights groups and hated by the carrier-rights groups.

Exposing the secret to them meant he would have betrayed both, the anti-carriers for fooling them into believing he had actually been one of them and the carriers for denying them and sending the worst possible message by actively fighting against his own rights.

Somehow Derek doubted that the misdiagnosis would do much in terms of smoothing things over – on either side of the feud.

It was official – he was, in the very literal sense, completely and utterly fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Derek makes downright stupid decisions in canon - so if you're starting to feel like you want to shake some sense into him, that would have been my inspiration ;). 
> 
>  
> 
> Next Update: Wednesday 04/22  
> Chapter Title: "Derek Has a Bad Week - Then It Gets Worse"  
> Chapter Summary: Derek is trying to go on as if nothing had happened, another debate with Stiles goes down south, and Laura and Peter make an executive decision based on a suspicious photograph.


	10. Derek Has a Bad Week - Then It Gets Even Worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek struggles to pretend everything's fine, another debate goes down south, and Peter and Laura make a decision based on a picture.

**21/22 Weeks**

As far as Derek’s personal “Most Horrible Week of My Life”-Ranking was concerned nothing would ever come close to the first couple of days after the fire, which had killed more than half of his family.

He had been 13 years old at the time and he had mostly spent those days alternating – sometimes in dizzying frequencies – between complete numbness, bouts of unbearable fury, and helplessness, particularly as he had watched his then 8-year old younger sister trying and failing to wrap her mind around the concept of her mom and dad no longer being there.

Nothing would ever come close to that horror – or at least he desperately hoped it wouldn’t – but the first workweek after his life-altering realization definitely came second now.

He had spent that first Sunday after his months-long state of oblivion – or maybe it had been denial from the beginning, he wasn’t quite sure anymore – alternating between lying on his bed feeling like he had been flattened by a truck or pacing around the loft agitatedly, the latter usually prompted by the feeling of movement, whether it was actually there or just a figment of his overtired imagination.

He had also searched the Internet for stories of other men who had been misdiagnosed, but had had to stop reading after the first two, their tales mirroring his own experience too well not to become terrified as he read about the way in which they had been found out.

There had been phone calls and texts from Erica, as well as a couple of messages from Laura, who had reminded him that he was scheduled for another debate with Stiles come Friday and who had also wanted to know if he wanted the lox bagel featured in his eulogy.

Seeing Laura’s name pop up on his screen had almost sent him into an actual panic attack and as he had tried to calm his breathing his brain had conjured up one horror scenario after the other, in which he was found out and everything went to hell in an instant.

Laura was going to _hate_ him.

Not to mention that he had no clue how he was supposed to keep his composure during the debates now – or how to hide the pregnancy, for that matter.

It was probably just his imagination, but when he had gotten up that morning and stood in front of the mirror his belly had looked so much more pronounced than yesterday already and he knew that as the child’s kicks grew stronger it would eventually be visible even through his shirts, having seen enough pregnant women in his lifetime to know that for a fact.

How was he supposed to argue against carrier-rights and, by extension, the discrimination of carrier-babies, with the man who had gotten him pregnant, all the while feeling the kicks of his own carrier-baby?

It was almost enough to start drinking, but Derek was definitely not going to add fetal-alcohol-syndrome to the long list of screw-ups he had already committed this year.

When he got up on Monday and shuffled into the bathroom the artificial light made him look as if he had aged about five years in the past 24 hours alone, the bags under his eyes so profound that they looked as if they were pregnant with their own baby-bags.

He needed coffee, desperately, but still couldn’t even stomach the idea of it, and when he stared at the Keurig on the kitchen counter he actually had to laugh, realizing all of a sudden why his trusted machine had been unused for months now.

At least his sudden and inexplicable aversion to coffee _finally_ made sense.

As a result he was grumpy and tired when he walked into the office kitchen on their department floor to find some caffeinated tea at least, barely looking at Erica when his assistant asked if he felt better and wordlessly grabbing a half-empty box of donuts sitting on the counter.

_At least you have a reason for all that sugar you’ve been craving lately. Ha, **craving**_ **,** _such a beautifully revealing word, isn’t it? Man, Derek, you really are an idiot!_

His inner voice had seldom sounded so judgmental and bitter, but then again it perfectly echoed Derek’s feelings about the world and his life right now.

The next days went by in a blur, a constant state of panicked vigilance, tugging at the hem of his shirt, hiding behind his desk, and avoiding people in general.

They were in the developing stages of a new website feature so Derek could busy himself by reading his people’s reports and doing his own research – or rather, attempt to read the reports, since he was finding it incredibly hard to concentrate for longer than two or three minutes, his mind chanting _pregnant, pregnant, pregnant_ almost constantly – but he couldn’t hide inside his office forever, especially not with the new debate coming up soon.

On Friday he got to the office almost an hour late because he had spent his entire morning hunting for the black slacks he had worn that one time there had been a function at his fraternity house towards the end of his freshmen year, at the peak of his own personal clichéd freshmen 15 situation, and when Erica waved the shot-kit at him with a hesitant smile he grimaced.

“Why does Laura insist on either scheduling debates or department meetings on shot-days? I don’t have time for this today!” he sighed and Erica looked like she wasn’t quite sure whether to comfort him or whether to lose her patience.

“That’s why I’m doing this right now, you don’t have to go on television until about 8 tonight, that gives us ten hours. I would have done this earlier, but someone decided to be fashionably late, so I guess ten hours will have to do,” she snapped, clearly not in the mood for their own version of a heated debate.

Derek sighed guiltily.

He had put his poor assistant through quite a bit of tongue-lashings these past weeks, 99 percent of which had been undeserved, and with the upcoming loss of the rest of his family – because there was no way they wouldn’t break ties with him, not after he had humiliated them like this – he was well aware that Erica was the only friend he had left.

All of a sudden he felt scared that she would leave him, too, especially when she realized how many of her friends had already lost their jobs because he had been a spineless hypocrite.

He sank down onto his office couch with a sigh and then winced, rubbing at his lower belly with a grimace before snatching his hand away as he remembered that Erica was in the room.

The slacks weren’t as tight as the pants he had barely been able to button under the steadily growing swell of his midsection, but the button was placed in a rather uncomfortable position, digging into the hard skin almost painfully.

Erica clucked her tongue, not even hiding her disdain as she prepared the shot.

“The Backstreet Boys called … they want their pants back,” she said, holding his arm in a gentle grasp when she administered the shot and Derek glared half-heartedly.

“Couldn’t be helped,” he said testily, self-consciously readjusting his teal dress-shirt over the waistband and trying not to think about the way the buttons were already beginning to strain over his navel, much like they had with the maroon shirt.

From the look on her face, Erica had definitely noticed and was obviously biting her tongue not to comment.

“Is this what you’re wearing for the debate tonight?” she asked casually when she was done with the shot and Derek, who was already starting to feel drowsy from the medication and wondering if the fact that the fatigue had never hit him this quickly before actually meant that the shot was harming his baby, sighed helplessly.

“Am I?” he muttered and Erica shook her head with a small smile.

“Over my dead body, boss,” she said, tense expression giving way to an exasperated smile when Derek made a grab for the blanket he had kept on the end of the couch ever since the beginning of the year, when he had found himself needing to nap for – in hindsight – not so mysterious reasons.

He was probably imagining the hand softly stroking through his hair as he curled in around his stomach, safely hidden under the blanket, and when he woke up three hours later a new pair of pants, a dark green shirt, and a purple shirt were sitting on his desk.

He had to hand it to Erica, after complaining about his love for black clothes for years she was definitely not missing any opportunities to put him in color, now that she frequently had to go out to replace his wardrobe.

Erica was a miracle worker, Derek decided as he inspected the fit of the new clothes in the bathroom mirror, though the fact that she had picked out an almost perfectly fitting pair of pants worried him, making him wonder just how aware she was of the shape of his body and whether or not she had already started to make the connection.

The much more flattering and therefore concealing fit of the clothes had put his mind somewhat at ease, however, and when Erica stuck her head inside his office to alert him that the car was there to drive him to the studio, Derek tried his best to smile at her.

“How about you take tonight off. You have been accompanying me to these things after hours for a while now, it’s about time that ends,” he said and Erica looked torn, clearly pleased at the offer of a free Friday evening but also concerned.

“Are you sure you don’t want me there? I could …”

“I’ll be fine. I went over Laura’s notes three times, I’m going to be ready for whatever Mr. Stilinski has to throw at me today. Last time won’t happen again.”

Erica sighed.

“Alright. But if you need company afterwards don’t hesitate to call, ok? No matter the hour … and if I don’t pick up right away, just wait till I’ve had my orgasm. I’ll call back after.”

“TMI Erica,” Derek muttered, though on the scale of Erica’s over sharing tendencies that particular remark had been a rather tame 3 at best.

Five minutes later Derek wondered if the treatment for his blood condition included some components that were normally used in anxiety medications, because he was almost unnaturally calm now, despite the fact that he was going to face the father of his child for the first time since he had learned of its existence.

Sighing softly, Derek allowed his eyes to close as he rested his head against the car window, feeling like he was swimming in some sort of Twilight zone as he recited the arguments Laura had prepared for him in his head.

_Male carrier pregnancies tend to result in more complications, leaving businesses scrambling for replacements often at a moment’s notice._

Derek wondered if he was about to face complications, then quickly shut down the idea when a spike of nervous nausea shot through his almost artificial calm.

_Male carriers’ behavior changes drastically as soon as they are expecting, resulting in tense workplace atmospheres._

Things between Erica and Derek had certainly been tense for a while now and there was no doubt that it had been his fault.

_Carriers tend to be primary caregivers for their children, since the numbers of single-parent carriers far surpass traditional single-parents, resulting in too many sick days when they have to stay home with the child and a reduced workplace performance._

He was definitely going to be a single parent; that much was painfully clear.

_Carrier-Babies are more prone to diseases, making us question whether or not a carrier who chooses to have a child despite all the risk-factors is acting rather selfishly._

A kick, right below his ribcage, and because the window between the driver and the backseat was closed Derek placed his palm over the spot, rubbing in soothing circles.

He had no idea where Laura had gotten that last part, but the thought of his baby experiencing complications because it had been born by a man made him hope desperately that his older sister had made that up.

“How is it even possible that I am so worried about you, even though you are about to ruin my life?” he whispered, shaking his head with a watery sigh as he looked out at the passing buildings.

When they reached the studio Derek was quickly herded to the make-up room, where a stressed out make-up assistant tsked at the heavy bags under his eyes, then he was miked and directed to the waiting area, and it wasn’t until he noticed the instruction panel next to the large door that his carefully constructed mask of calm was shot to hell in an instant.

He had his phone out one second later and when Laura picked up Derek was almost shocked how badly his voice was shaking.

“Live audience? There is a fucking live audience?”

Laura’s voice sounded annoyed as she answered, the sounds in the background indicating that she was in transit.

“You are realizing that _now_? Seriously Derek, I told you this was going to happen days ago, you had more than enough time to, I don’t know, look at the program you’re going to be on at least once!”

 _Maybe I was a tiny bit preoccupied_ , Derek thought, pushing his free hand into his pants pocket to stop it from shaking.

“Ok, calm down Derek! This is actually a good thing, I hear Stilinski gets flustered in front of big audiences, and while you’re not necessarily the poster-child for public speaking yourself, you’re hot, so unless you start sweating like a pig like Nixon did, the audience will be so busy ogling you that they’ll be on your side by default! It’ll be fine!”

Having the audience ogle him was basically the _last_ thing Derek wanted right now, but there was no way he could explain that to his sister.

When the stressed out production assistant touched his arm to indicate that it was about time for him to go into the studio he startled, almost dropping his phone.

“Derek? You still there?” Laura asked and Derek closed his eyes briefly, muttering, “I have to go,” before he disconnected the call.

The studio was similarly set up to the other ones he had been in recently, a round table with three seats, with Stiles already sitting on the right side, chatting to the host of the show, who was facing the camera directly.

Derek would have preferred that angle, aware that if the camera filmed him from the side he’d have to be very careful about the way he was sitting, but he could do it, he decided, focusing on the host’s extended hand and greeting as he sat down and completely ignoring Stiles, who was staring at Derek warily.

He was tapping against the table with his long fingers and Derek wondered if the baby would inherit those, then forced himself to snap out of it, realizing that he was still clutching Laura’s note-cards at the same time.

He groaned inwardly, putting them upside down on the table and hoping that no one was going to pay too much attention to the fact that he seemed to have no mind of his own whatsoever.

The host of the show was a political moderate, neither favoring Stiles nor Derek’s position, and after a brief introduction to the beginning of the argument – Derek wondered if viewers were as sick of hearing the name Danny Mahealani as he was at this point – the first question was directed towards Stiles, who immediately cited newest stats that showed support for carrier-rights increasing across the nation, as well as statements from the handful of Hollywood celebrities that had come out as carrier-babies in the past couple of weeks.

“Groups like the RMA have been extremely vocal about supporting _Hale_ & _Argent,_ and the figures you released last month show that ever since this all began the sales of your products have not been very much affected at all, though I noticed that you lost two big-name authors lately. Care to comment on that?”

Derek, who had been wondering if Stiles even wanted to have his own children, startled, blaming the pregnancy-brain phenomenon for his inability to focus and not the presence of the child’s other father, whose aftershave Derek and his newly enhanced sense of smell could detect even from across the table.

It reminded him of the night they had spent together and he shook his head quickly, answering both the host’s question and berating himself for being an idiot.

“I am not here to discuss internal business affairs,” he said and the host nodded almost good-naturedly, turning back to Stiles as he asked if those authors had perhaps reached out to the ERC lately.

“Yes, in fact, Mr. Queen has been very enthusiastic about his support for us. He actually published the release date for his new book yesterday, and as a life-long fan I am quite excited to read a story about carrier rights from his perspective. Personally, I hope he’ll go for a thriller-themed book that situates the horror within humanity and not a monster or alien, because I have always preferred these. However, if there are time-travelling monsters that start terrorizing carriers because they are clearly still living in the past I would be all in favor of that, too.”

The host laughed and Derek forced himself to smile politely, the smile dropping off his face when the baby kicked against his ribs.

He had been expecting it, but keeping himself from pressing his hand against the spot was a lot harder in reality than he had anticipated.

When the child kicked the same spot again, harder this time, he winced, not quite able to conceal it.

Stiles was watching him carefully and when he looked up and there were lines of tension around the other man’s mouth that made Derek’s hair stand on edge. He wasn’t looking anywhere lower than his face so it wasn’t that he had somehow developed x-ray vision, obviously, but Derek was aware that he probably looked pained right now and he didn’t quite know what to do with the knowledge that his pain seemed to bother Stiles, despite everything that had already happened between them.

“Mrs. Rawling has been very supportive as well, I can’t tell you too much but if I were you I would be on the look-out for a book-series about some fierce carrier-born children in the future,” Stiles continued after a brief pause, having schooled his features back to a smile as he winked at the camera.

“Speaking of carrier-born children, I had your colleague Kira Yukimura on the show earlier this week and she reports that many carrier-born children have reached out to you in the past couple of weeks, oftentimes sharing horrific stories of bullying. Are you actively reaching out to recruit these courageous young men and women for the cause?”

Stiles immediately launched into his arguments about the treatment of carrier-born children, effortlessly connecting it to the bullying and stereotypes their parents had already faced before even having them, and Derek found his concentration wandering, as he became more and more away of the baby’s unusually active movements.

 _Is he talking about me? Hey Papa, is that my Daddy trying to make sure I can have a future even if you can’t? Even if you **won’t**_?

Derek had no idea if the voice of the baby was male or female, but he could definitely imagine the child asking him these things in a tone that could rival Stiles’ trademark sarcasm.

He was so preoccupied that he almost missed it when Stiles stopped talking and when he looked up both men were watching him eagerly, apparently waiting for him to actually be stupid enough to answer Stiles’ rhetorical question of whether or not _Hale_ & _Argent_ felt responsible for the hardships all carrier-babies whose parents had been fired from the company were facing on a daily basis.

He hadn’t planned to use Laura’s note-cards, especially not the last argument, which seemed rather sketchy to begin with, but because he couldn’t think of something to say he decided to ignore his gut feeling.

“I find it interesting that Mr. Stilinski keeps talking about _protecting_ carrier babies, yet he tends to ignore that these babies have much higher health risks because of the way in which they came to …”

Before Derek could even finish the sentence Stiles had already slammed both hands on the table, his expression having switched from forced politeness to fury and raw hurt, the latter making Derek’s breath catch in his throat.

“Mr. Hale is insulting mine and the audience’s intelligence by repeating claims that have never been proven nor are there even any indications that they are accurate,” he gritted out between his teeth, in a tone that very specifically told Derek “Fuck you!”

“But the stats show that …” he began, eyes widening when Stiles lunged over the table and unceremoniously grabbed his note-cards, rifling through them with his eyes rapidly darting back and forth.

“Complications – the same as with women, fact! Behavior changes – same as women, only they don’t have to face changed behavior from their _peers_ , fact! More single-fathers … seriously, who wrote these, I can’t even … oh, and of course the fact that carrier-babies are all doomed to an early grave, wonderful, all we’re missing here are some derogatory remarks about carrier reproductive organs! Forgive me, but if that’s how you plan on arguing we’re done here! I’m willing to hear to actual arguments, not a checklist that someone copy-pasted from _WeHateCarriers.Com_!”

“Mr. Stilinski, I must ask you to calm yourself,” the host said, though Derek could see his eyes glinting with barely controlled enthusiasm, probably imagining the free publicity Stiles’ outburst was going to get his program.

“Are you feeling ok Mr. Hale? Would you like to respond?” the host continued, turning towards Derek with a quizzically cocked eyebrow and Derek, who had stared at Stiles with wide eyes and not even made an attempt to get his cards back, suddenly realized that he must have wrapped his arms around his belly automatically, a gesture of protection when Stiles had lunged at him.

He gasped almost inaudibly, forcing himself to rest his arms on the table, but even without looking down he could already feel that his suit-jacket had shifted, that he had probably just put at least half of his gently rounded midsection on display.

Stiles, meanwhile, had dropped the note-cards, his furious expression slowly giving way to confusion, then to an almost vulnerable look of concern as he stared at Derek, or rather, his midsection, having followed the movement of Derek’s arms with his eyes as he had forced himself to let go of his stomach.

Stiles’ eyes were wide, afraid almost, as if there was a thought in the back of his mind that he couldn’t quite shake, and Derek sat up as straight as he possibly could, angling his torso in a way that would hide the soft swell of the child away from cameras and its other father, who was now narrowing his eyes at Derek.

“I didn’t know physically attacking your debate opponent was the theme of this show,” Derek said coldly, feeling relieved when Stiles’ look of concern first switched to guilt and then to the fury from earlier.

Aggression he could deal with – that other look, however, had reminded him way too much of their second time together and Derek had been thinking about that particular look in Stiles’ eyes too much as it were.

“As you can see, tensions are running high as we continue to battle out this highly sensitive topic. We’ll be right back after the break!” the host cut in quickly when Stiles made no move to respond, simply staring at Derek with a look of almost disgust on his face.

As soon as the cameras stopped rolling Derek was out of his seat, heading towards the bathroom and waving away the set-assistant’s urgent, “We continue in less than five minutes!” warning as he briskly strode past her.

The child had delivered one too many kicks against his bladder and Derek was quite sure he had already made enough of a spectacle of himself without peeing his pants on national television.

To his relief Stiles, unlike last time, did not follow him, but when he headed back towards the studio entrance he found Stiles sitting in the hallway, having clearly waited for him.

The younger man sighed loudly as he got up, carelessly dusting his hands over the seat of his pants as he stepped towards Derek, looking tense and unhappy.

“I was out of line when I lunged at you like that. I’ve done it before and I’m truly, truly sorry about it, especially since I promised it wouldn’t happen again. But I can’t debate with you anymore if you’re going to use arguments like that! So tell me now, are you willing to argue about this using your _own_ arguments or are we going to start debating whether or not all carrier-born baby girls are automatically hideous and have excessive body-hair next? Because if all your arguments are indeed copy-pasted from _WeHateCarriers.Com_ that probably should be next, but that also means we’re done for good here. I won’t make myself a laughing stock by listening to nonsense and I doubt you want to humiliate yourself by parroting it back from your stupid cards!”

He tugged at his hair, longer than when Derek had dragged his fingers through it all those months ago, expression frustrated.

“I’m good at this, I have done so many public speaking events in the past weeks that my actual employer is starting to wonder why he is even paying me, but then I go on television with you and we start behaving like kids fighting over the best toy in the sandbox! That’s not what I want people to remember when they talk about my involvement with the ERC. I _believe_ in this, I want our society to change, and that message is what I want people to remember, not how the two of us made fools out of ourselves on national TV! So please, Mr. Hale, can’t we just … can’t we be adults about this? Adults who don’t have a …”

“A history?” Derek finished his sentence coldly and Stiles bit his lip, then nodded, looking like he regretted that history deeply.

The baby kicked again and Derek rested his hand against his side without thinking about it, the other rubbing over his eyes as he suddenly felt very tired.

They not only had a history, they had a future together, a future that was currently growing inside of him and that would always connect them, whether Stiles wanted it or not, but as he looked into the younger man’s torn eyes Derek had no idea whatsoever how he could even begin to communicate that to Stiles.

Stiles was staring at his belly now, the curve of it peaking out from between the sides of Derek’s suit jacket and when he looked up at Derek he once again seemed terrified.

Derek held his breath and raised his eyebrows, daring him to say something and Stiles licked his lips nervously, avoiding his eyes as he shook his head and muttered something under his breath.

“What was that?” Derek asked, voice getting higher as he suddenly started to feel like the walls were closing in on him and Stiles’ gaze slowly dragged up to his face, the look on his expression full of disbelief.

“I … I … I just said I guess that your silence means we aren’t going to be a adults about this after all?” he finally said softly, disbelief giving way to determination and Derek was willing to bet that that wasn’t what he had said at all.

He wasn’t about to push the man for the answer, however, not when he was reasonably sure that Stiles, who had seen his non-carrier ID and therefore had less reason than anyone else to ever suspect he was pregnant, was nevertheless starting to become suspicious, even if it was on a subconscious level.

He stayed silent, looking at the floor himself now and finally Stiles sighed.

“Do you even … hell, do you even _believe_ what you are saying? Because I thought you did, only now I don’t know anything anymore,” he whispered, almost too quiet for Derek to hear.

Derek ignored him, squaring his shoulders determinedly as he marched back into the studio.

The answer was ‘no’, but he wasn’t about to sign his own social death warrant.

 

==================

 

Five hours later Derek was curled up under a blanket on his couch, the only light in his loft the television, which was muted and kept showing his and Stiles’ debate.

After their encounter in the hallway Stiles had been subdued, his voice resigned as he had answered the host’s questions and Derek was aware he hadn’t sounded much better, overwhelmed by how pointless the entire debate was, especially when he knew for a fact that no argument in the world would make _Hale_ & _Argent_ change its carrier-policies, not even for him.

Especially not for him, he thought ruefully, lightly rubbing his hand over his navel, which was once again very sore.

He wondered if it was going to start protruding soon, had read that it happened with most pregnant people, though he desperately hoped it wouldn’t.

He was confident that he could somehow explain his growing belly away, hopeful that he’d be like 80 percent of all carriers, who were able to fly under the radar until well into their third trimester if they so chose.

His belly was still a bit smaller than the one Danny Mahealani had not quite managed to hide on that fateful day in his office, so it was definitely possible.

After all, no one knew he had been misdiagnosed as a non-carrier and with a N-C ID no one would even think twice of suggesting he was pregnant.

A pushed-out belly button, however, would be a damning indicator for what was really going on.

There was a knock at the door and a second later the sound of a key turning signaled the arrival of his older sister.

Derek wrapped the blanket tighter around himself, not bothering to turn on the light as Laura stepped into the living room area, her shoulders drawn back and her entire posture tense as she sat down on the couch across from him.

“Peter’s pretty pissed,” were her first words and Derek shrugged, looking at the floor with a sigh.

“Figured,” he muttered and Laura let out a frustrated sound, her eyes narrowing as she looked at him.

“What happened today Derek? You sounded like … like … like you’d completely forgotten which side you are on! And the note-cards, really? Our arguments are simple, the fact that everyone now thinks you actually have to read them out loud makes us look bad!” she exclaimed, her tone sharp but her eyes shimmering with concern and Derek laughed without humor, a soft sound that he couldn’t quite suppress.

He hadn’t forgotten which side he was on – it was his body that had switched sides for him.

“Derek?” Laura prompted and Derek rubbed at his neck, trying to relieve the tension that had turned his neck and shoulders into knots.

“I never wanted to do this Laura, I’m not cut out for public speaking and you knew that very well! Don’t blame me for messing this up, I told you in the beginning that it would happen!” he said sharply and Laura crossed her arms defensively, staring him down for a moment before she sighed, looking deeply resigned.

“Neither me or Kate can do it, Derek, I thought we made that clear after Kate embarrassed herself on Fox News. It was between you, Peter, and Chris, so of course we went with you,” she said tiredly and Derek scoffed, glaring at her.

“ _Of course_ it had to be me, clearly. Only no, not clearly, because Chris could have done it just as well. People like him a lot more than Peter, especially when he talks about how he stepped out from the shadow of his gun-toting father and did what he thought was right! All I ever did was rise up in the company because of my last name!” he said heatedly and Laura sighed again, frustrated this time.

“We chose you because you were the most relatable person regarding the issue. Chris is too old to be of child-bearing age now, even if he had been a carrier to begin with and you know as well as I do that Peter’s reputation is much too sketchy for anyone to take him seriously, and I’m not even talking about that one time in Vegas! And besides, television is a visual medium, and choosing a younger man made the most sense, considering you used to be …”

She trailed off, biting her lips and looking almost angry at herself and Derek concentrated on his breathing, hoping that his voice would come out steady when he spoke next.

“If you have something to say just say it, ok? I’m not oblivious, you know,” he said tiredly, tensing when Laura got up from her chair and sat next to him on the couch, causing him to pull the blanket tighter around him.

“No one was going to mention it, I mean, you’re under a lot of stress, it’s normal to stress-eat and besides, I heard that you’ve been having some really severe reactions to your medication lately, maybe that has something to do with it, too. But when it leads to pictures like this one circulating the social media sphere it becomes a problem,” she said softly, pulling her tablet out of her bag and showing the picture to Derek.

It was bad quality, probably taken with a phone, but it only took one glance for him to understand what Laura meant.

The person taking the picture had managed to capture the moment right after the baby had kicked against his kidney in the hallway, and he was standing across Stiles, both of them looking like someone had died, with Derek pressing his palm against the side of his belly, the curve of it not fully visible but definitely more pronounced than it should have been to avoid suspicion, and Stiles’ hands hovering on the same level, as if he wanted to press them against Derek’s stomach.

Derek hadn’t even noticed he had done that.

“What’s the problem?” he asked, voice almost toneless in his fear.

Laura snorted.

“Well, I guess I’m glad you don’t see it, maybe it’ll mean that not everyone will, but honestly Derek, and I’m not saying this to insult you, I’m just telling you how it is, the two of you look like bitter exes who are expecting a baby in here. With you as the pregnant one, if that wasn’t clear. And that’s _really_ not a rumor we want to start now, isn’t it.”

“Absolutely not,” Derek replied, meaning it from the heart.

Laura nodded.

“Thought so. I spoke to Peter because we have to move fast on this, nip it in the bud before it can get too much traction, so to speak, and he agrees with me that we should pull you from television duty for a bit. Not for forever, obviously, you’re still our knight in shining armor fighting against those idiots at the ERC, but we can’t have you running around arguing against carrier rights while starting to look like … like you’re _one of them_!”

Derek inhaled deeply, wondering if he should act more insulted.

“Is this you telling me I’m banned from TV until I’ve gone on a diet?” he asked and Laura flinched guiltily, hands playing with her braid restlessly.

“You said it, not me, but since we’re on the subject … you might want to consider it? For your health, you know. You’ve visibly gained weight since Christmas. I didn’t notice it until Kate pointed it out a week or so ago, but visibly gaining weight in such a short time can’t be good for your health. We want you around for a while longer, you know, I’ll never make CEO of the company if I don’t have my little brother to back me up against Peter’s power-trip,” she said, scaring Derek deeply when she snuggled into him without warning and rested her hand on his belly, patting it good-naturedly before a look of confusion spread over her face.

“Have you been drinking more lately?” she asked, turning towards him, and Derek, who was busy praying to the child not to move under any circumstances, whipped his head towards her, startled.

“I … what?”

Laura shrugged, poking a finger into his belly and holding up her hands defensively when Derek, no longer able to tolerate her touch without losing his composure, lifted her hand off of him with a warning glare.

“It’s just … it’s kind of hard? Like some men get when they drink too much beer for a long period of time? I know you’ve had some issues in the past, but …”

“Hold on, I what?”

Derek stared at her, very much not on the same page.

Laura grimaced.

“I know you don’t drink a lot normally, but I always thought that was because of what happened with Kate. So if you’re drinking more now, well, I just want to say that …”

“What happened with Kate?” Derek asked, voice shaking just a bit now and Laura sighed loudly.

“Oh come on, don’t make me say it, I don’t want to embarrass you.”

“Embarrass me?” Derek repeated, voice flat, and Laura shrugged.

“I … ok, don’t be mad, I know I was supposed to be on your side in that break-up drama, but well, Kate needed some girl-talk, so I listened to her one night and well … it happens to everyone, you know? I always thought it was a bit childish to break up with her just because you got so drunk one night you couldn’t get it up and she laughed,” she said and Derek could literally feel his stomach churn, the old fury washing over him.

“She said that?” he asked coldly and Laura nodded, biting her lip as she stared at him.

“Wait a minute … is there more? I didn’t want to ask you about it then because she said you were so embarrassed that you would have lashed out at anyone trying, but … is there something else I should know?”

Derek wondered what his face must have given away to even make her ask and he looked at the ground, trying to calm his breathing, which had quickened with every one of Laura’s words.

“Derek?” Laura prompted, sounding so gentle, so concerned that it made him ache for the time when his big sister had been in his corner without question, when he hadn’t had to be afraid of her finding out his secret and hating him for it.

“Derek?” Laura repeated and Derek opened his mouth to tell her, tell her everything, too tired of the secrecy to hold it in anymore – only to shut his mouth again when the baby kicked against his ribs hard, as if it wanted to tell him not to be a fool.

“No, that’s what happened,” he said finally, hating himself and voice breaking at the end and Laura frowned at him, doubt all over her face.

“You know you could tell me if it wasn’t, right? I’m your big sister; I’m supposed to protect you! You know that, right?”

 _You can’t protect me from this_ , Derek thought, as much as he wanted her to just wave a magic wand and make all of his problems go away and he nodded, not looking at her when the baby kicked again, as if to reassure him he had done the right thing.

Laura sighed, resting her head on his shoulder, though her hand stayed clear of his abdomen this time.

“Something’s going on with you and I hate that you feel you can’t tell me what’s bothering you! I feel like we never talk anymore and I don’t know what happened. Stupid fucking carriers … that whole drama is messing up all of us! I wish we had never hired Danny Mahealani in the first place!” Laura whispered, barely audibly, and Derek kissed the top of her head softly, feeling helpless, angry, and alone all at once.

He was only prolonging the inevitable.

Despite his hope that he would show very little, like most carriers, he realistically knew that if people were actually beginning to notice the weight gain now it would be clear to everyone in a ten mile radius by the time the child was ready to be born.

He looked at the picture of himself and Stiles again, wincing when he noticed that his jaw line was much softer than usual. He wasn’t about to do anything stupid, he wasn’t going to starve himself or anything like that, but if a little diet would help putting his family’s minds at ease and do something about the unfamiliar softness of his face then it certainly couldn’t hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I tend to reply to comments (unless they are just plain mean-spirit and/or disrespectful, then my usual go-to strategy is either ignoring or addressing them as sweetly and politely as I possibly can in a note, because I firmly believe in respectful conduct on the Internet and not - cue strange German phrase translated into English lesson-time - behaving like an open pair of pants, but luckily I've rarely gotten those so far and none on this story, so thank you all for being so kind!), but if I don't reply to yours, please don't think I didn't enjoy reading it! I just don't want to give away any spoilers and there's been a couple of speculation-comments that posed rather interesting questions ;). 
> 
>  
> 
> Next Update: Somewhere between Thursday and Friday
> 
> Chapter Title: Gym-Woes
> 
> Chapter Summary: After realizing that Peter and his hatred against carriers might actually be the lesser of his problems, Derek is forced to make a difficult choice to protect his baby.


	11. Gym Woes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek realizes Peter is by far not the worst danger to his baby and, in order to protect it, makes a decision he ends up regretting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: 
> 
> This chapter includes:
> 
> \- Behavior one should definitely not engage in while pregnant  
> \- Mention of past violence against a carrier
> 
> (see endnote for description if need be)

**24 Weeks**

Yes, Derek probably wasn’t making the best decision right now, he was well aware of it, but the situation was threatening to get out of control and he was starting to become desperate.

He had cut back on his eating but quickly realized that skipping meals, as he had done a lot in the past when they had been working on a rather time-consuming project, was about the stupidest choice he could have made while pregnant.

Luckily it hadn’t been a full on fainting spell that had brought him to that realization but a simple swaying followed by having to sit down very quickly instead.

Cora, who had been accompanying him to a radio-interview for moral support – “I said television Derek, not ‘no publicity at all’,” Laura had apologized earlier that day, having the decency to sound at least a bit chagrined – when it happened, had actually screeched at him when he had waved away her concern by admitting to the skipped lunch.

On the one hand it had been reassuring to realize that his little sister, whom he wanted to protect from this mess and the heartache it would bring almost as much as the baby, believed he had simply gained stress-weight.

On the other hand it had pained him to learn that she seemed to believe he was actually vain enough to risk his health because he no longer had his muscular abs, especially since he secretly agreed with Cora that trying to lose weight through starvation was unhealthy, and dangerous.

Later that evening Derek had searched the internet for pregnancy-safe diet tips, and after an hour of searching and feeling thoroughly judged by all the soccer-moms and soccer-dads of the world, Derek had come to the realization that cutting out all the extra sugar he had been consuming thanks to the donut craving would probably have to be enough for now, especially since he was still too terrified of being discovered to go to an actual doctor.

When he stared into the mirror ten days later he was relieved to note that the angles of his face had indeed regained most of their usual sharpness, the lack of sugar and the ever-increasing emotional stress he was under working together to give him an almost sickly look and he gingerly touched the black smudges under his eyes, wondering if it was normal that he was almost as tired as during the beginning of the pregnancy these days.

For all his face had lost most of its puffiness, however, there was simply no way he could fool anybody that he still had his defined, muscular abs at this point, not with the way the curve of his stomach was becoming more and more pronounced each day.

He could still hide the extent of it fairly well, his longest shirts just long enough to bunch up around his waist enough to camouflage it, but when he sat down, the buttons definitely strained these days, highlighting the curve instead of hiding it.

The picture of him and Stiles hadn’t helped matters much either, and even though the ERC had been quick to issue a statement against body-shaming – “Lydia about had a fit, I was this close to bending her over the table and ravish her, she doesn’t even know how hot she is when she gets mad,” Cora had explained to him afterwards – the comments had definitely been scathing.

Thankfully, the popular opinion seemed to be that he was subconsciously gaining sympathy weight for carriers, not that he was actually one himself.

Derek had found himself thanking the fact that only one in 10,000 carriers got initially misdiagnosed, certain that if it had been more common he would have been found out the day the picture had hit the internet.

Heck, if it had been a common occurrence there was no way _Erica_ wouldn’t have caught on to him months ago.

On the negative side, each added inch to his waistline pushed him one step closer to having everything fall apart. On the positive side it had indeed freed him of television duty, because Laura and Peter had been adamant that a real man defending the discrimination of carriers had to be bulging with muscle and not with excess fat.

Peter had actually smirked while gleefully pointing towards Derek’s waist and Derek had gritted his teeth so hard he had actually thought he’d heard a crunching sound.

There had been a hard edge around Peter’s mouth, too, the skin around his eyes tight as he had narrowed them at Derek and Derek had thanked his foresight to wear a sweater-jacket that was large enough to make him seem almost smaller, the sharpening contours of his face and his pallid color making him appear sick and most definitely not a glowing picture of health or expecting parent to be.

Boyd, one of the few of Cora’s friends who still worked at _H_ & _A_ after first Danny, then Stiles, then Scott, then Lydia and Jackson had either been fired or left on their own, had actually asked him if he wanted to go lift some weights the other day, looking like it even pained him to say the words and Derek had been very well aware that Erica had probably been behind it, the nervous glances Boyd had directed towards his fiancé’s office door speaking volumes.

It had hurt his feelings and he had snapped at her more than usually that day, but he knew that, in her own, brash way, Erica was probably trying to be nice, seeing how working out had always been a favorite part of Derek’s day and it had always left him in a good mood.

Exhausted, but in a good mood.

These days, Derek was constantly exhausted and in a bad mood, his nerves paper-thin because of the ever-present fear of getting discovered and the loneliness he had started to feel so acutely that it almost hurt as bad as his back nowadays.

Unfortunately, he had been so flabbergasted that Boyd would actually flat-out ask him to go back to the gym that he hadn’t been able to think of a good excuse why that wasn’t a good idea, which was why he was currently in the process of making yet another stupid decision, the latest in a long line of failures ever since he had forgotten to check the condom expiration date.

Thankfully he had had the foresight to grab a loose-fitting t-shirt from the back of his closet that morning, because his normal muscle tanks were definitely out of the question.

Boyd looked apologetic when he stepped out of the single changing cabin in the men’s room of the company gym, clearly interpreting Derek’s sudden modesty as a sign that this was crossing all kinds of lines

As they walked into the gym the taller man leaned closer, voice uncertain.

“Listen Derek, we don’t have to do this, ok? If you’re not feeling up to it I can just …”

“Erica’s right,” Derek interrupted him, smiling humorlessly when Boyd winced guiltily.

“I haven’t been to the gym in ages and it’s messed up my concentration. I’m not used to sitting around all day after so many years of regular exercise and who knows, maybe this will increase my productivity,” he said, trying for casual and relaxing when Boyd clapped his back and nodded, obviously relieved that Derek was letting him off the hook.

Derek and Boyd had often acted as each other’s spotting partner in the past, but as he hovered over Boyd to make sure the younger man wouldn’t be hurt he quickly realized that even though he still had his upper-body strength there was no way he could get away with this.

For one, his back was already howling in pain just after the first set and secondly, lying flat on the metal bench would really accentuate the firm curve of his abdomen.

Derek wasn’t a masochist and exposing his secret in a gym frequented by carrier-unfriendly men was possibly the worst way to go about this.

“Listen, Boyd, my back’s killing me today, I think I sat at my desk too long yesterday. I’ll just start with my chest, use one of the machines,” he said when Boyd got up from the bench and motioned for Derek to lie down and Boyd looked at him in slight concern before he nodded, clearly wanting to ask but refraining.

Derek smiled gratefully and wandered away, eyeing the machine with a sigh.

The one thing he probably _should_ be working on was his back musculature, but using the back extension would have required him to actually be able to put pressure on his belly right now and that was obviously not happening, so working on his upper arms and chest seemed like the most sensible option.

Boyd was doing lunges now and Derek watched him for a while, feeling almost jealous as he observed the lean muscles at play.

On top of everything that was already going on he missed moving around without pain or having to be extra careful.

Maybe he should have come here sooner, taken advantage of the exercise endorphins to make the situation at least a little more bearable.

Determined, Derek held on to the handlebars and pushed, feeling the familiar burn in his shoulders and taking deep, even breaths, concentrating on the sensation of the muscles in his upper back and chest.

He was so focused on maintaining a regular rhythm that he almost missed the cough to his side.

“Peter mentioned you would be here today, so glad to have caught you! Haven’t seen you here in quite a while Derek, I take it you have been busy with defending us all against the armada of the sissy-boys?”

Derek startled, letting go of the bars and wincing when the machine clanked as the beams slammed back, wincing apologetically when one of the trainers glared at him with a shake of his head.

“Oh I am sorry, I did not mean to startle you Derek. Just wanted to come over and say how grateful we all are that you’re representing us these days!” the man said pleasantly and Derek turned towards him with a forced smile, all of his nerve endings standing on edge instantly.

Deucalion McIntosh grinned back, the expression in his eyes cool and calculating as always and Derek felt himself tense even further, aware that he had to tread cautiously now.

Neither Deucalion, nor the over seven feet tall wall of muscle that accompanied him everywhere worked at the company, but as a personal friend of Peter the man had had free access to the gym ever since Chris had grudgingly given in to Derek’s urging to have it built five years ago.

Derek didn’t quite know how they had met, wasn’t sure he wanted to know, as with most of Peter’s acquaintances, but he did know that the man was quite rich and that, when he wasn’t lounging around on yachts or playing golf at fancy resorts, he invested quite a bit of money into the fight against carrier-rights, having founded the RMA, which stood for Real Men Association, as well as its sister group, the decidedly more aggressive AMA (Alpha Male Association) a couple of years ago when the ERC had started to really become visible.

He had quickly distanced himself from the AMA, especially after they had been linked to actual attacks against carriers, but Derek wasn’t holding his breath on the sincerity of that distance.

“You remember Ennis,” Deucalion said smoothly and Ennis grunted in what Derek assumed meant hello, holding out his hand and clasping Derek’s firmly before he took a step back, gaze travelling down to Derek’s midsection with something that was clearly judgment.

“I do,” Derek confirmed, trying to shield as much of his lower body as possible as he got up and stepped away from the machine, aware that the protrusion wasn’t nearly as obvious when he was standing.

“Getting back into the grind, I see, working off some of the anger you must feel at constantly having to talk to that pussy-boy lover on television no doubt,” Deucalion commented and Derek couldn’t quite keep himself from flinching at hearing Stiles insulted, crossing his arms over his chest and thus tightening his shirt almost automatically before he realized what he was doing and let them fall to his side, his heartbeat stepping up a notch when he noticed Deucalion’s smile slip away.

“I find that a little exercise always clears the mind, don’t you, Derek? Among other, _visible_ benefits,” Deucalion said, his tone sharp and suspicious now and Derek held his breath in something that was almost terror when the older man reached out and patted his stomach without asking, the heat of his hand almost burning through Derek’s skin.

 _Please don’t move, please don’t move, please don’t move!_ he prayed internally, forcing himself to breathe as evenly as possible when Deucalion just stepped into his space further and rested his other hand on Derek’s belly, not quite pushing in but definitely exerting some pressure into the taut skin that, Derek was only too painfully aware, wasn’t going to offer much give.

“Yo Derek, can you help me over here?” Boyd suddenly called out and Deucalion’s hands dropped to his sides immediately, his face very tense now.

“In a second!” Derek called out, raising one eyebrow at Peter’s friend, who was now cocking his head as if he was trying to figure something out.

“Was there something else you wanted from me?” he asked, not liking the shark-like grin on the other man’s face at all.

“Actually, Derek, now that you mention it,” he began, his voice so sharp it could have cut diamonds, “me and Ennis were just about to leave for lunch, try out that new little French place around the corner. Say, would you perhaps mind joining us? After all, you’ve been doing all of us _real_ men at the RMA such a great service, I would love to be able to repay you at least a little!”

His tone held no room for argument and Derek would later blame it on the panic threatening to choke him when he nodded quickly.

Deucalion smiled pleasantly and nodded towards Boyd, adding, “We’ll wait outside in about fifteen minutes,” as he walked away.

“Are you alright Derek? You look like you’re about to topple over?”

Boyd was suddenly at his side with a concerned expression and Derek bit his lip to shake himself out of it, nodding with a forced smile.

“I’m alright. Just got invited for lunch so I guess I’m going to have to cut this short. I appreciate you taking the time though, I really do, and sorry if I’m ruining your weight training by ditching you like this, but I am afraid I’ll have to run.”

He was babbling, he realized that, and from the confused face Boyd was making at him the other man could tell that wasn’t quite normal at all, but before he could dig the hole even deeper Derek excused himself, walking to the locker-room as quickly as he could and grabbing his bag to hide in one of the single changing rooms.

He dressed swiftly, fingers only shaking a little as he buttoned his newest shirt over his stomach and when he looked into the cabin’s mirror he closed his eyes briefly, shaking his head at himself.

Deucalion hadn’t pushed deep enough to feel the baby and the child had remained calm, not fueling his suspicion further.

With his shirt easily camouflaging the swell he could definitely make it through this luncheon, he would just have to make sure to not touch his stomach at all, given Deucalion was already suspicious.

Twenty minutes later they were seated in a fancy French restaurant that was indeed just around the corner and if he hadn’t been almost ill with nerves Derek would have probably appreciated the rather exquisite menu, a little bit overpriced but not on the outrageous side.

“We’ll try your house wine,” Deucalion told the waiter as soon as they were seated and Derek forced himself to smile, hoping he wouldn’t have to actually drink.

“Did your uncle ever tell you what got me to found the RMA, Derek?” Deucalion asked, long fingers twirling a knife around absentmindedly and Derek shook his head, eyes never leaving the shining metal.

He didn’t think that Deucalion was about to plunge the knife into his stomach, not really, at least, not in a populated restaurant, but the meaning of the gesture certainly wasn’t lost on him.

“A personal tragedy, as I’m sure will come as no surprise to you,” Deucalion said, nodding towards the waiter and smiling appreciatively when the young man offered him a glass of the white wine to taste.

“We’ll have the whole bottle, Maurice,” Deucalion said pleasantly and he didn’t speak further until all three wine glasses were filled.

“This all happened about eight years ago, a year before we had our first meeting. Not even the board members know what really happened, since I’ve only shared this story with a handful of selected people. I am trusting you to be discreet, Derek, as I believe you, as our shining beacon of real Alpha males, should know more about your responsibility to all men,” Deucalion mused, fixing Derek with a snake-like stare.

“You young people have this custom of showing each other your ID-card nowadays, but see, I was always very old school about it, though in retrospect I understand that I was mostly naïve. I firmly believed that you were upfront and honest when it came to sex and I trusted that if I ever had the misfortune to meet a carrier that this man would extend me the same courtesy and inform me about his status. Little did I know that the honesty I was expecting might be normal for a real, proper man, but not for a carrier, and I came to learn this in a very painful way.”

He paused, moving his glass to swirl the wine around a little before he continued.

“About nine years ago I met a man, a very charming fellow, dashingly handsome, one might have even said beautiful, though that of course should have been a warning sign, seeing as many of them are almost beautiful in a feminine way, which is of course due to their … girl parts, let’s put it delicately since we’re in a fine establishment. This man, let’s call him Lucas, charmed me thoroughly and I was absolutely smitten. For one year I devoted all of my free time to him, traveled the globe with him, opened up the world for him in a way he could have never imagined! He came from a lower middle class family and had never left the country before, but I was more than happy to share my world with him, and oh how he enjoyed it! I thought I had truly found the one, the man I would grow old with, and I could not imagine anything that could possibly come between us. That was until he started getting sick.”

Deucalion sighed theatrically and Derek just barely resisted the urge to press his palm against his stomach, suddenly understanding all to well where this was going.

“I was worried, of course, not suspicious, not back then, but worried, nevertheless. As I said, I cared deeply for this man and seeing him so ill made me upset, too, so I pressured him to go see a doctor. I was unavailable to attend the appointment because I had a business meeting to attend to and when I came home I’m afraid I was in a bad mood. As you know, I own a paper company, which is why I know your dear uncle, and the business meeting was with one of our providers, who had heard about my rather carrier-unfriendly contracts. His son was a carrier, you see, and he was one of those wannabe lady-part-boy-lovers who defend their rights, so he told me he could no longer sell to me because we disagreed ideologically. He was one of my biggest providers as well, and I was understandably upset when I came home. I had never really talked about carriers with Lucas before … the topic had never come up, so Lucas didn’t know my feelings on the subject. When I stopped ranting about that provider and asked him how the doctor’s appointment had gone he, realizing the horrible miscalculation he had made, lied to me and told me it was just a mere stomach bug.”

Ennis scoffed next to Deucalion and the older man nodded, his features hardening even further.

“You see Derek, dear little Lucas had been trying to get pregnant ever since we first got together, figuring that by trapping me with a child he’d have access to my money for life. I believe he had thought the news of the child would be welcome, unaware that I would have never knowingly fathered a child with such a freak of nature. I can be very intimidating when I want to be and that night I was apparently extremely intimidating, because Lucas, instead of manning up and telling me the truth right then and there, decided to hide the pregnancy from me for a while, possibly in the hope that I, once I had calmed down, would be open to changing my mind. He continued brining up the topic for a couple of weeks, often enough to make me wonder if anything was going on, but it wasn’t until he was almost six months pregnant that I finally learned the truth.”

Derek, who, according to his own calculations, was definitely at least six months pregnant, hardly dared to breathe, not wanting to know anymore, but Deucalion continued, his voice cold as steel now.

“I had to go on an extended business trip to the rain forest, to lead negotiations with a new provider, and I hadn’t seen Lucas for almost three weeks, which doesn’t seem like a long time at all but was definitely long enough for his body to undergo some pretty dramatic changes. I didn’t quite notice it at first when I tiptoed into our bedroom that night, since he was curled on his side and deeply asleep. I figured I’d just cuddle up against him and spoon him; he always liked that. Believe me when I say that pressing my hand into that firm, swollen belly where I was expecting to encounter flat, smooth skin, was definitely a shock. I’m afraid to say I did not react well.”

Deucalion’s nose twitched in distaste and Derek could feel sweat starting to bead on his forehead as he remembered the look of startled recognition in the older man’s eyes when he had pressed his palms against his belly earlier.

“There was a lot of yelling, and a lot of disgustingly hormonal crying, but there was nothing I could do about it, of course. It was too late to get rid of it in a legal way and as much as I hated the thought that that was my child in there I couldn’t well kick Lucas out into the street, even though I felt horribly betrayed. He apologized over and over, told me he loved me and that he knew it would all be ok in the end, told me he had waited so long to tell me because he hadn’t wanted to put me under even more stress with all those issues at the company, almost begged on his knees for me not to kick him out. It was pathetic, no real man would have acted like this!”

Ennis scoffed again, a smug grin spreading all over his face and Derek felt his blood run cold, now definitely certain that he didn’t want to hear the end of the story.

“I didn’t kick him out but I can’t say I was able to love him any longer, not after a betrayal of such magnitude. It bothered him, of course, especially since the pregnancy was progressing and he was increasingly acting like a damsel in distress, constantly whining about heartburn, swollen feet, backaches, you name it he had it. He didn’t get any sympathy from me, of course, he knew what he was getting himself into when he told me not to wear a condom, but of course I didn’t try to make his lot harder on him than it already was, that was my child after all and I figured I had to take responsibility for my own stupidity. But New York City can be a dangerous place, especially at night, and three weeks after he was forced to confess the pregnancy to me he was attacked on his way home from some carrier Lamaze class.”

Ennis smirked smugly once more, not even trying to hide it, and Deucalion smiled at his bodyguard fondly, almost making Derek sick.

“It was horrible, truly horrible. Guy literally jumped him, pulled him into a dark alley, took his bag and phone and stabbed him multiple times, tearing into him like a butcher and then leaving him to die. By the time poor Ennis here found him the child was beyond being saved and although Lucas survived, his carrier-equipment was so torn apart they had to cut it out in an emergency surgery. I almost would have felt bad at the look on his face when he realized there weren’t going to be other children, but I was of course busy mourning the passing of my little one. It would have been a girl, they told me, so I’m almost ashamed to say I was a bit relieved the poor child had been spared going through life as a carrier-born girl, as you know, those women tend to be even more disturbed than carrier-born boys, because of all that extra-testosterone they were forced to ingest during gestation. Makes them all wacko in the head, not to mention quite hideous in physical appearance. I moved on quickly, of course, after all I had never wanted the child in the first place and was tricked into it, but Lucas wasn’t quite able to do so. Turns out he had gotten really attached to her during all that time he had kept her existence a secret and what I can say, three days after I took him home he jumped from the roof.”

He shrugged, as if the whole situation had merely been unfortunate rather than terrifyingly heartbreaking, and when he looked at Derek next he was smiling.

“Is the wine not to your liking, Derek?” he asked and Derek’s eyes widened when he realized what was happening.

Deucalion knew what a pregnant stomach felt like and ordering a bottle of wine for someone whom he believed to be pregnant was certainly nothing but a test, a test to see if Derek would refuse or indulge, the latter indicating that he wasn’t pregnant after all.

 _One glass will be fine, it won’t hurt the baby, you can drink one glass_ , his mind said, even though his instincts were screaming at him to decline, to gather his things and storm out of there to protect his baby from the madman who had just essentially told him how he had had his own unborn child murdered and then – Derek was willing to bet money on this – pushed the grieving father of the child off a rooftop.

Deucalion was the last person on Earth he wanted to find out about his baby and as he stared at the glass he realized with a pang that there was only one way to make sure that wouldn’t happen.

“I was waiting for you, this is your treat after all,” he said softly, and Deucalion cocked his head, eyes firmly fixed on Derek’s glass as he raised his own.

 “To all _real_ men,” Deucalion toasted, the gentle tone doing nothing to soften the challenge in his eyes and Derek raised his glass as well, thinking, _sorry, sorry, sorry!_

“Cheers.”

 

===================

 

As a passionate athlete Derek had never been a big drinker, especially not after the experience with Kate, and despite his build his alcohol tolerance had never been the greatest, having led to more than one embarrassing night out with Laura and, as she had grown older, Cora.

He wasn’t quite sure if it was the pregnancy or the fact that he had hardly had any alcohol in the past six months, but as he slowly made his way back to the office, having to pause every now and then to catch his balance and try to talk his churning stomach into not spilling its contents all over the side-walk, Derek was sure he hadn’t quite felt this bad since the peak of the morning sickness-masquerading as stomach flu.

One glass had turned into two, then three, then four, and by the time Deucalion had asked for the check, the tension lines around his mouth having relaxed somewhere between Derek’s third glass and his fourth, Derek had found himself knocking back a shot of brandy, to aid digestion, as a rather pleased Deucalion had proclaimed.

“Where the hell were you Derek, you missed two appointments and a fuckton of phone calls and … hold on a second, you _reek_ of alcohol, are you … Derek, are you _drunk_? It’s fucking 3 o’clock in the afternoon!”

“That’s not very nice!” Derek said, louder than he had intended, as he held his finger up to wag it in a condescending manner, trying to stare down the two Ericas he was currently seeing.

“I … excuse me?”

“You said fuck twice. That’s not nice,” Derek explained as if it made the most sense in the world, rolling his eyes and stumbling towards his office.

Erica stared after him for a couple of seconds but when he bent over his desk to grab the phone she lunged, grabbing the phone and throwing it away carelessly, her eyes furious.

“Don’t even think for a second I’ll let you make a phone call like this! What the hell Derek, why are you drunk right now? Where were you? What happened?”

“’s really not your business,” Derek said, nodding to himself.

There were a few things that really weren’t Erica’s business and voicing it out loud for the first time felt almost cathartic to him.

“Like hell it’s not, Derek, what is going on with you?”

“Nag, nag, nag, nag, nag!” Derek replied, waving her away carelessly as he stumbled over to the cabinet where Erica always kept a selection of good spirits in case a meeting required them.

Grinning almost like a madman Derek pulled a random bottle out of the cabinet and took a swig, no longer even grimacing at the burn as he rested his other hand on his stomach and patted it with a rueful grin.

“Damage’s done so I might as well, sorry kid,” he mused, glaring at Erica when she snatched the bottle from him with an angry snarl.

“Don’t patronize me Derek! I am not going to take this kind of disrespectful shit, especially not from someone who knows better! I’m going to ask you again, what the hell happened?”

“It’s a secret!” he replied, throwing his head back to laugh at himself, his fear, pain, an anxiety just bubbling out of him in a laugh that was almost a pained scream.

When he had gotten himself back under control Erica looked shattered.

“Are you … do you have an alcohol problem Derek? Is that the reason for all of …”

She gestured helplessly towards his midsection and Derek snorted as he walked past her and collapsed on the couch, chuckling when he realized that she was the second person to ask him about it, even though the absurd theory couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

“Secret!” he repeated, making an annoyed noise as he tried to roll over on his stomach – his preferred resting position – and found the sensation to be deeply unpleasant, forcing him to curl onto his side, one leg haphazardly thrown over the edge of the couch, the other dangling down the side.

Erica was saying something, the shrill tone of her voice registering somewhere in the back of his mind but Derek was beyond caring now and he drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

The room was dark when he woke up seven hours later, blinking once, twice, three times to adjust to his surroundings before he lurched over the edge of the couch and … felt a cool hand on the back of his neck as he vomited into the trashcan that was being held in front of him.

The dry-heaving seemed to go on forever, the nausea only intensified by the thoughts screaming at him inside his aching skull.

_Is the baby still ok?_

_Why isn’t it moving?_

_Did I kill my baby?_

_Are you ok?_

_Please move!_

_Why aren’t you moving?_

_I’m sorry, I love you, just please, please, please don’t be dead!_

He was sobbing and heaving at the same time, coughing and spluttering miserably and the hand on his neck never strayed, long nails soothingly scratching his nape and rubbing between his shoulder-blades and Derek pressed a hand against his stomach under the blanket desperately, willing the baby to just start moving already, to offer reassurance where he felt he deserved none.

It seemed like forever until there was the soft, familiar sensation of the baby kicking and he let out a choked sound, halfway laughter, halfway a sob, causing Erica to grip his shoulder tightly as she placed the bucket down on the floor.

“Do you feel better now?” Erica asked quietly when Derek leaned back, resting his throbbing head on the pillow with a low groan.

His mind was definitely better, beyond relief that the baby was still moving, but his body was screaming at him.

“I feel horrible,” he muttered and Erica let out a sound that was more resignation than amusement.

“Well, that sucks for you, because I have something to say and I don’t want to wait until you’re all better.”

Her hands were still stroking his neck, taking some of the heat out of her words, but when Derek cracked open one eye her expression was more serious than he had ever seen it.

“I love you Derek, you know that I do, that’s not going to change just like that. But if something like today ever happens again I’m done, do you understand that? I spent too many years of my childhood just taking the abuse and the bullying being hurled at me in school for something I had no control over, I am done with people treating me like I’m a punching bag! And I will never tolerate it again from anybody, not even from you! So you better tell me right now if you think this is going to happen again, because if you do, then I’ll pack my bags right now and we’ll part as friends.”

Derek blinked, feeling guilty, horrible, and terrified all at once.

“I don’t have a drinking problem,” he began, wondering if the statement was in any way believable when more bile came up his throat and he lurched over the edge of the couch again, almost throwing up all over Erica’s shoes.

Once again his assistant rubbed his shoulders through it, making calm, soothing sounds as if he was a hurt animal and when it was finally over she got up to empty the trash can, leading Derek to sigh in relief that he no longer had to smell it.

When she came back she looked tired.

 “I know you don’t have a drinking problem. I talked to Boyd, he came by and brought me some dinner earlier. He said that you went to lunch with Deucalion and that he really got into your space before that and I know from Peter’s assistant that every time Peter goes out with the guy he comes back completely plastered. So I understand that he probably pressured you into this, but I’m going to be honest Derek, I’m really disappointed you would let that happen. Peter, yes, no surprise there, but you?”

“Had no choice,” Derek muttered and Erica shook her head grimly, trailing her fingers along his sweaty forehead.

“There’s always a choice Derek! You just have to be courageous enough to make it!”

She stared at him intently, expression softening to compassion.

“Something’s wrong, has been for months, but you’re still not going to tell me what it is, are you?”

Derek turned his head, not wanting her to see how moist his eyes had become.

He had thought about telling her so many times, but knowing would put a burden on her that Derek didn’t want her to shoulder, not after everything she had done for him.

It was his mess and he had to fix it.

Erica took his silence as agreement and she muttered, “Oh Derek,” under her breath as she stood up, giving him a concerned once-over.

“Do you think you can make it back to your place or do you want us to give you a ride? Boyd’s waiting in my office and I’m sure he could help you make it down to the car at least.”

Derek shifted on the couch, considering, only to moan softly when the slight movement aggravated the lingering nausea by a tenfold.

“No more movement for you today, huh?” Erica asked, sighing as she stroked her fingers through his damp hair.

“Well, I’m not really interested in spending the entire night on your desk-chair to babysit you, as freakishly comfortable as it is compared to mine, but if I leave you on this couch can you promise me that I won’t come back tomorrow to find you having choked on your own puke?”

“Can’t promise that,” Derek muttered, and because the darkness was acting as a natural shield he didn’t think twice about resting both hands on his belly, trying to calm it and the restlessly moving child, his eyes tearing up as he thought, _I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry_ , over and over again.

“Well, I’m pretty sure there’s not much left in your stomach, so that’s that,” Erica mused, squinting at his midsection. For a moment it almost looked as if she wanted to touch it, then thought better of it.

“Alright boss, I’m going to trust you on this and I’ll let you sleep here like a big boy. Just don’t to anything stupid, you’ve really reached your quota for today.”

Erica was almost out of the door before she turned around, her eyes glinting with the reflection of the moonlight.

“I’m trying to respect your privacy Derek, and so is Cora, but it’s getting really hard for the both of us to just watch you self-destruct. Something is going on with you and whatever it is it’s breaking you apart. We’re trying to give you time until you’ve sorted yourself out enough to talk to us, we know talking doesn’t come easy to you, but for the love of all that’s holy Derek, please sort yourself out soon, ok? I don’t want something really bad to happen to you because you were too stubborn to seek help!”

Derek pushed his face into the cushion, inhaling shakily and he could hear Erica sigh softly, as if she hadn’t really expected an answer anyways.

Sleep was almost upon him now, and just before he lost consciousness he thought he could feel the soft press of Erica’s lips against his forehead.

However, when he chased after the touch she was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING-Explanation:
> 
> \- to convince Deucalion he isn't pregnant Derek allows himself to get drunk, knowing full well it could be dangerous for the baby  
> \- Deucalion recounts the fate of his former pregnant carrier lover, describing how he was mugged in an alley and brutally stabbed, the attack killing his baby. 
> 
>  
> 
> Next Update: Saturday, 04/25  
> Chapter Title: "I See You, Little One"  
> Chapter Summary: Derek takes a much needed vacation to his family's old beach house and runs into the last person he would have ever expected to meet there. Also, the inevitable finally happens.


	12. I See You Little One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek takes a much-needed vacation to his family's old beach house, where he runs into the last person he would have expected. Also, the inevitable happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to post this tomorrow but it was fully-edited and so many people were saying something about edge-of-seat-anticipation and since the update dates are meant to be taken as the latest possible date anyways I figured, "Why not". 
> 
> For the purposes of this story Beacon Hills is now in upstate New York, just fyi ;).

**25 Weeks**

As far as Derek was concerned his near nervous breakdown had been a long time coming, five weeks, actually, ever since he had held a positive pregnancy test in one hand while the other had been pressed against the then-still terrifying movement inside his abdomen.

He had figured it might happen, probably in the context of his secret being discovered for good, but he definitely hadn’t expected the trigger that actually went and did it being so incredible mundane.  

He had been fine one moment, calmly discussing next week’s appointments with his assistant, the next he had been hunched over the desk, wheezing for breath and shaking violently.

Derek had seen Erica reach for the phone out of the corner of his eye and he had made a grab for her hand, holding it so tightly that he was almost afraid he’d bruised her delicate fingers, shaking his head repeatedly but unable to actually say the word ‘no’ when breathing was almost impossible.

When the attack had finally stopped Erica had wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her face pushed into the crook of his neck and Derek had felt gutted when he had felt her tears on his overheated skin.

“Derek,” she had whispered against his ear and Derek had rested his forehead on the desk, breathing as calmly as possible until he felt he could speak again without hyperventilating.

“Erica … I don’t think I’m going to meet any of my appointments next week,” he had finally realized, his voice hoarse, and Erica had nodded with a wet snort.

“I don’t think so either,” she had agreed, her hand stroking through his hair comfortingly.

“I think I’m going up to the summer house for the week. Just a week, but I don’t … I can’t …”

“You need to get away from all of this,” Erica had finished and when he had pushed his face up again she had smiled at him sadly, looking deeply worried.

“Whatever _this_ is,” she had added and Derek had sighed.

“It’s just too much Erica. Too damn _much_! And I just … I need a break from life. With everything that’s been happening I just need to be alone for a while. Please don’t ask me why I just … I can’t right now.”

Erica had nodded, her fingers still stroking across his nape soothingly.

“And you are sure you don’t want me to come with you? Or at least Cora? I was going to use that paid leave in the summer, but I don’t care about that, I don’t want you going up there alone if something like this is going to happen again.”

Derek had smiled; cursing his damned pregnancy hormones for making his eyes tear up.

“I appreciate the offer but I don’t think Boyd will be too happy with me if you spend your vacation with me and not your fiancé. I’ll be fine; I just need to get away from here for a while. Stuff has been building up and I just need some rest, you know?”

Erica had looked like she wanted to protest but then shut her mouth, tracing her finger across the dark smudges under Derek’s eyes instead.

“I worry about you Derek. I know you’re getting tired of hearing this, but if there’s anything you want to talk to me about, _anything_ , you know you can, right? I’m not your assistant, I’m your friend and so is Boyd. He’s worried, too, and you know how much it takes for him to voice an emotion. We are here to help if we can and even if we can’t, please don’t forget that!”

Derek had squeezed her hand tightly, the words on the tip of his tongue, but he had ended up swallowing them, not trusting himself to tell her when he was already this close to falling apart.

He needed this break, if only to be away from prying and suspicious eyes for a while.

Also, if the mere mention of a wine-tasting invitation from the RMA was enough to send him into a panic attack these days then he definitely needed to clear his head.

It would also enable him to skip the wine tasting and prevent him from putting his child in even more danger than he had already done with Deucalion in that restaurant.

 

===================

 

There was a key inside Peter’s assistant’s office, nestled in a red little box and hidden in the last drawer of the desk.

It was the key to their family vacation home in the beach town of Beacon Hills, a couple hours drive north of the city and Derek’s family had been spending parts of their summer there for years before the fire.

After the fire the place had held too many painful memories to spend time there together and Peter had declared that the house was to be used only in emergencies, if anyone of the four remaining Hales really had to get away.

The key held a don’t ask-don’t tell policy; if one of them needed to get out of town for whatever reason he or she could just grab it and go, the lack of key in the box a message to the others that whoever had taken it needed to be alone and didn’t want to be contacted for a while.

As Derek pulled the rental-car into the drive-way of his summer-home he felt like he could breathe again for the first time in six weeks.

They employed a house-keeper who checked on the house every two to three weeks, making sure everything was in order and there was no dust collecting anywhere and the familiar scent felt almost like a soothing balm as Derek stepped inside.

The house had four bedrooms and when Derek, his parents, and his sisters had stayed there his parents had usually taken the master bedroom on the first floor while Laura, Cora, and Derek had wrestled over who would get the biggest room of the three bedrooms on the second floor.

His parents had had a balcony installed a few years before the fire and the room had offered the most fantastic view in the place, almost better even than the back-porch, which was directly touching the beach.

Laura had usually won.

This time Derek didn’t even think twice about it as he made his way to his parent’s bedroom, dropping his bag carelessly on the floor and stretching out on the large king-size bed before he rolled on his side, one hand gently cupping his belly.

After all, if he was going to be a parent he really had to get used to sleeping in the parents’ bedroom.

He hadn’t stepped foot inside this particular room for years, had always tried to avoid it on the few times he had found himself in need of the beach house in the past 16 years for fear of it triggering painful memories, but now that he was here he felt more at home and at peace than at any time during the past seven months.

His eyes shut tight Derek remembered the many firsts that had happened in this room: the night he had snuggled in between his parents, seeking comfort from the first actual nightmare he could remember when he had been three; the afternoon of his first heartbreak, as his eight-year old self had wailed out his devastation over the pretty black-haired girl named Paige on the beach rejecting his offer of building a sandcastle with him while his parents had smiled at him and each other fondly; the morning he had shyly tiptoed inside with Laura when he had been five, only to stare in awe at the tiny, red, wrinkled being cradled in his tired but happily smiling mother’s arms, while his deeply relieved and proud father had joked with the EMTs in the kitchen, confirming that his youngest was undoubtedly destined to making dramatic entrances for the rest of her life after being born three weeks early during the last night of the family’s annual beach-vacation, being in such a hurry that her poor, freaked-out father had barely managed to call the ambulance after his wife had shaken him awake with an alarmed “Baby-Time!” before Cora had already breached the birth canal.

Derek could only imagine the kind of trust between partners that would have calmed his mother down enough to allow his father to help guide Cora into this world, despite his non-existent OBGYN training, and it had probably been his imagination but his parents had seemed to be even more in love afterwards.

Even if he gathered the courage to tell Stiles about the baby before the birth there would never be that kind of closeness between them and the thought of possibly having to go through the birth on his own was starting to increasingly terrify him the more he read about it.

Carriers gave birth through a temporary birth canal, the formation of which occurred during contractions and could not be aided by any pain relieving medication, since science had yet to invent a drug strong enough to numb the pain yet weak enough not to interfere with the canal-formation.

It was often more painful than the average female birth – many reports had spoken of unbearable agony – and it was messy, and the one thing Derek had read over and over had been “I couldn’t have done it alone”, making him wonder if the universe was simply out to mock him.

The baby nudged against his side, gently, an imitation of a comforting touch almost and he rested his hand against the spot, pushing himself up into a sitting position as he pulled up his shirt, preferring the skin-on-skin contact when it came to feeling the child.

He was still tracing his fingers along the thin stretch marks that probably couldn’t have been prevented even if he had thought of moisturizing earlier when the outline of a little lump that seemed to be a foot became clearly visible, just above his finger.

It disappeared just as quickly as it had come, only to reappear a couple of inches deeper.

Wide-eyed, Derek sat up straighter, eyes glued to the movement as it repeated itself and gently pushing his palm against the spot.

The child nudged against his hand, as if in greeting, and Derek wasn’t at all prepared for the thunderstorm of emotions that came with it.

For five weeks almost he had hardly been able to think about anything else other than the fact that somehow, against all medical evidence to the contrary, he was pregnant and that it would destroy everything he had worked for and take away the rest of his family, but as he felt the child nudge against his hand again Derek had a startling realization.

He wouldn’t be pregnant forever – and once he was no longer pregnant, after the birthing process he was already dreading was over with, he would have a baby.

Not that that was a surprise, he had had more than one nightmare about collapsing on television during a debate with Stiles and giving birth right there in a horrible, bloody, gory mess after all, but the fact that he was actually going to be a _parent_ had not really registered with him until now.

He was going to be a parent – a parent to a tiny, innocent little baby, who had never asked to be born into such a messed up situation.

A child who would call him ‘Daddy’ (or ‘Papa’, as he had called his own father) and demand to be tucked in at night.

A child who would trust him to keep him or her safe and whom he already loved with all his heart.

 _His_ child.

It shouldn’t have been that big of a shock to him, not after all that movement lately, but still, the realization that he was in fact creating a tiny person, half Stiles and half him, who would have his or her own personality and go out to make a difference in the world, was all at once completely mind-blowing, nerve-wrecking, and yeah, something of a miracle as well.

“Hey Baby,” he said quietly, tracing the movements with both hands now, lightly brushing over his belly-button, which looked and felt like it was about to protrude any day now.

“I hope you are going to like having me around, because I’m afraid it might just be you and me there for quite a while.”

He trailed off, thoughts jumping to Stiles and sighing, as the familiar flash of guilt washed over him.

One of these days he would have to answer the child’s questions about his or her other parent and Derek really didn’t know what exactly he was going to respond.

“Once upon a time Papa didn’t check his condoms for their expiration date and then he spent nine months arguing with your Daddy on national television, pretending that he hated men who carried babies and hating himself right along with it. Then you were born and Papa was too much of a coward to admit to Daddy you were his and it was truly the miracle of life.”

Nope, Derek decided, that wasn’t quite going to cut it.

“You see, Baby, Papa thought he was having safe sex but he really wasn’t, and then he tried to make Daddy think he was an asshole, succeeding even beyond his wildest dreams. Daddy was so disgusted by Papa that he would have never been able to bear the thought of having a child with him, so Papa, because he was stupidly in love with Daddy and didn’t want to hurt him even more, just never told him. It was the miracle of one-night-stand-love.”

More guilt coursed through him, making his stomach churn. He wanted to believe he was protecting Stiles, was in fact quite certain that the news of the baby wouldn’t be welcome at all, but he was also and painfully so aware that he was mostly trying to protect himself.

Protect himself from the horrified looks of disgust Stiles would throw at him, protect himself from having to explain to his child why Daddy hated Papa so much, protect himself from knowing that Stiles was only tolerating his presence because of the baby.

He knew that Stiles thought he was a coward and it was in these moments that Derek wholeheartedly agreed with him.

 

======================

 

Another advantage of the Hale money was that the house came with about two miles of private beach and with the evenings being just warm enough for a stroll without getting too chilly Derek took advantage of being able to take a walk without constantly having to adjust his jacket to make sure the curve of his stomach was still hidden and without checking out his reflection in every mirrored window he passed to make sure he didn’t look undeniably pregnant yet.

He could still close his summer jacket but it made him feel like a sausage stuffed in a too tight casing, the gentle roundness all the more emphasized by the straining material stretching across it and so he just let the jacket open as he walked along the ocean, the cool water flowing over his feet and the sound of the waves clearing his mind until there was only the far-away sound of the seagulls.

The baby kicked a lot during these walks, or maybe it always kicked that much and Derek was just more aware of it because there were no other distractions, and he sometimes found himself sitting down in the sand, looking out over the ocean as he gently rubbed circles into his skin, taking comfort when he felt the child nudging back.

He had been in Beacon Hills for almost four days when he noticed the empty state of the pantry and the sad, lonely existence of the refrigerator and so he decided to drive into the town, wondering if the old store was still around.

Derek had loved the old store as a child, so different than the boutiques in New York where everything had been shiny, expensive, and the threat of accidentally breaking something that was worth more than every toy he owned combined ever hanging in the air.

His parents had made sure they were aware that not everyone grew up like them, trying to get them to appreciate the smaller things as much as possible, but to an eight-year old Derek the old town store had never been small, it’s novelty candy selection, cozy atmosphere, and the gentle grandfather-like owner Mr. Flynn offering him more riches than he could have ever wanted.

When he stepped inside the building Mr. Flynn looked up from his conversation with another customer and gave him a warm smile, the warmth slowly fading out of it as he clearly recognized Derek and Derek felt his own smile freeze on his face, a rather painful pang of sadness surging through him when he realized that the new expression on Flynn’s face was not contempt but disappointment.

It shouldn’t have surprised him, he would have been disappointed in fact if Mr. Flynn had been on ‘his’ side of the debate, but the pain of knowing that someone he had almost worshipped as a child was now disappointed in him was a bitter pill to swallow.

Sighing, Derek turned towards the fresh produce aisle, having decided that for the sake of the child he should probably eat more vegetables than he had been and he had just put some broccoli into his cart when someone brushed past him roughly, shouldering him so aggressively that he almost lost his balance.

“You! You filthy, hateful bigot!”

His eyes widening, Derek was barely able to duck in time as a can of peas came flying at his head, missing him by only inches and busting off the wall with a loud bang, exploding on the ground and spilling peas all over the floor.

“People like you are the reasons my parents lived in fear their entire lives! Crawl back into the hateful little hole you came from, we don’t want you here!”

The woman yelling at Derek was red-faced, her eyes brimming with anger as she stalked at him and Derek took a step back, wrapping his arms around his midsection on pure instinct and bracing himself for impact, too stunned to react otherwise when a man stepped inside the aisle and placed his hand on the woman’s shoulder, pressing down firmly and authoritatively.

“Sandra, no!” he said calmly, and Derek realized that he was wearing a deputy uniform, breathing a sigh of relief that turned to anxiety again when the woman whirled on the deputy, eyes wide in disbelief.

“How can _you_ of all people defend _him_! Seriously, Jordan, don’t you realize that …”

“Sandra,” the deputy – Jordan – said calmly, once again gripping her shoulder tightly.

“I need you to calm down or I won’t have a choice but to arrest you,” he said, throwing Derek a questioning glance that seemed to suggest that he was hoping Derek would just let it go as well, but the woman wasn’t having it, once again wrenching herself out of the deputy’s grasp and stalking towards Derek, crowding him against the wall.

“Are you proud of yourself? Of your fucking company? Do you even understand what people like you have done to families like mine? And for _what_!?”

She raised her fist, fury clearly having overtaken all of her senses but before she could actually strike Derek – or punch the wall, he wasn’t quite sure what she had been going for – the deputy was already there, a regretful expression on his face as he wrenched her arms behind her back easily and put handcuffs on her.

“And that’s enough of that Sandra! Mr. Hale, I’m sorry but I’m going to have to ask you to come to the station with me to make an official report. I apologize for the inconvenience but I can’t let this go,” he said, yet sounding like there was nothing that he wanted more than letting the woman go and Derek suddenly felt very tired, regretting ever stepping out of the house that afternoon.

The ride to the station was tense, the woman in the back glaring at Derek through the rear-view mirror but without saying another word and when they got to the station she did not put up much of a fight as another deputy steered her towards a holding cell, throwing a curious glance at Derek over his shoulder.

The deputy who had interfered, Jordan Parrish, from what Derek had been able to gather, turned towards him with a professional smile.

“Well Mr. Hale, if you could please follow me over to the desk in the corner, I would like to take your statement.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea Jordan?”

Derek turned towards the female deputy who had spoken up, feeling unsettled by the angry glare she was directing at him and Jordan nodded, reaching out a hand to place it on his colleague’s arm.

“Of course it’s a good idea Tara, I saw the assault happen after all,” he said and the deputy – Tara – jerked her thumb at Derek angrily, then, for a reason that Derek wasn’t quite making sense of, placed her hand against the male deputy’s side.

“You know who he is, right? Are you sure you want to expose yourself to all that …”

“Don’t talk like Sandra, he could sue us for that,” Jordan Parrish interrupted her, expression fond but his tone firm and Tara pressed her lips together, looking unhappy.

“If you’re certain,” she said slowly, glaring at Derek once more before retreating and Derek blinked quickly, wondering what in the world that had been about as he followed Jordan Parrish to his desk in the corner.

The deputy slowly sat down, wincing just the tiniest little bit and Derek raised his eyebrows but followed suit, leaning forward so that the edge of the table would hide the curve of his abdomen, which was much more visible when he was sitting down these days.

“Well, let’s get started, shall we? How long have you been in Beacon Hills and have you had prior contact with Sandra Richards?”

Derek was about to answer but then closed his mouth again, feeling very uncomfortable as he noticed that every deputy in the station was staring at them like hawks, their expressions ranging from suspicious to concerned and, in two cases, even challenging.

Jordan followed his gaze and groaned, lifting his fingers to his mouth and whistling loudly.

“Guys! You’re making the man nervous, can you stop it with the mother-henning? I’m fine!”

There was some grumbling but slowly but surely all deputies turned back towards their own desks, leaving Derek even more confused than before.

“I have never seen her before, no,” he finally said and Parrish nodded, making a note on his clipboard.

“Is this the first time something like that has happened to you ever since you became the public face of the anti-carrier movement?” he asked, tone still polite but now with an edge to it and Derek began shaking his head, then corrected himself.

“No. I mean yes, I’ve never actually been attacked, but people have insulted me on the streets a few times,” he answered and Parrish nodded, as if he had expected that answer.

“Did you …” he began but before he could finish a man who looked to be in his early fifties was suddenly at Parrish’s side, holding a plate with some fruits and carefully cut vegetables.

“Thought you might want a snack Jordan, we don’t want more issues with your blood sugar. Don’t tell my son, but I also got you this,” the man said, smirking conspiratorially as he pulled a wrapped chocolate-chip muffin from behind his back.

When he straightened up his blue eyes were trained on Derek and the pregnant man fought the urge to wrap his sweater jacket tighter around him, his senses telling him that this man was extremely observant.

“Thanks Sheriff, but I’ve been feeling really good these past couple of weeks actually, especially since I started seeing Melissa instead of my regular doctor. I’m glad I listened to Stiles; the woman really is a god-send! And I won’t tell your son about the muffin, Stiles has been nagging me about my diet enough as it is,” Parrish said and Derek let out a muffled gasp, staring at the older man wide-eyed, his heart constricting painfully as he noticed the name-tag that said ‘J. Stilinski’.

They didn’t look much alike, but even though Stiles had never mentioned the name of the town he had grown up in – and wasn’t that a kick in the balls that it happened to be the exact same town Derek’s family had spent so much time in – he could remember him saying that his father was Sheriff in a small town up north.

Which meant that there could be no doubt about it that he was currently being glared at by the only grandparent his baby would ever have.

It felt as if someone had punched him.

The Sheriff narrowed his eyes at him, looking much more like Stiles all of a sudden as he leaned over and looked at Jordan’s notes, clucking his tongue with a shake of his head.

“You sure you’re ok? I can take over if you want, don’t want to put too much unnecessary stress on that grandbaby of mine,” the Sheriff said and once again Derek could barely hold in his gasp, not only feeling like he had been punched in the gut but also right where it hurt the most as his gaze flitted back and forth between Parrish and the Sheriff, a horrible thought forming inside his head.

The Sheriff’s _grandbaby_?

As far as Derek knew the Sheriff only had one son, who had apparently not only fathered the child inside Derek but also gone and knocked up another man a couple of months after.

“You’re …” Derek bit his lip, hating himself for the tremor in his voice and now both men were looking at him, defensive expressions shifting to curiosity in the Sheriff’s case and to concern in Jordan’s and Derek suddenly realized that he had begun shaking all over.

“Whoa, I know you hate carriers, man, especially when they’re expecting, but don’t faint on me just because you’re being interviewed by one!” Parrish said quickly, eyes not leaving Derek as he unwrapped the muffin, broke off a piece and thrust it at him, tone demanding when he said, “Eat, quickly, I’m not having you faint on me so you can sue us for trauma or something!”

Derek closed his eyes, feeling humiliated, ashamed, and shaken, no longer trusting his words as he concentrated on chewing the muffin.

He definitely did not want to faint and risk his secret being exposed by someone who was apparently carrying his baby’s half-sibling.

“Are you back with us Mr. Hale?”

The Sheriff sounded weary and Derek opened his eyes, fighting against the urge to laugh hysterically.

“Yeah, I … yeah. Sorry, I think the shock of being assaulted caught up with me,” he muttered, the excuse sounding lame even to his own ears.

“If you’re certain,” the Sheriff said skeptically, clapping his hand on Jordan’s shoulder and muttering, “I’ll be over there in case you need me,” before moving to the desk closest to them.

Derek took a deep breath, chastising himself for acting like a heartbroken idiot.

“I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry, I didn’t want to make you think that I … that it was because of …”

“Well you can’t really blame me for thinking along those lines, can you? But I accept your apology, I know that must have taken a lot out of you,” Jordan Parrish said, the tension bleeding out of his face as he leaned back and regarded Derek with a sad half-smile instead, resting both hands on his belly and framing it so that the tiniest of curves became visible underneath his uniform shirt.

“And to answer your question, I’m pregnant, yes. Eight months, three weeks, five days, which is also why my dear colleagues have been glaring at us for the past ten minutes, I think they believe talking to you will trigger pre-term labor. They are mother hens, the whole bunch of them, and the Sheriff is the absolute _worst_ , but I wouldn’t want it any other way. Being waited on hand and foot for nine months certainly beats your company’s policy,” he said, adding a quick, “Sorry for being blunt,” when Derek flinched, though the pregnant man couldn’t have cared less about the other carrier’s bluntness.

Eight months, three weeks, five days?

At the most he himself was 26 weeks pregnant … if Jordan Parrish was almost 36 weeks along that meant that Stiles had gotten him pregnant almost three months before he had slept with Derek and the news were completely scrambling the image he had had of the man so far, making him wonder if he had been horribly stupid.

The man he had slept with that night would have never pretended they could actually have a future together if he had had a ten weeks pregnant former lover waiting for him in Beacon Hills and even if they hadn’t been together at the time Derek wanted to believe that Stiles wouldn’t have thrown himself head-first into a new relationship while another man was carrying his child, certain that the man he had gotten to know that night would have focused all of his attention on the expecting father of his baby, at least until after the birth.

Transfixed, Derek stared at the other carrier’s tiny belly, tinier even than Danny Mahealani’s had been at eight months and Jordan Parrish cleared his throat, a warning look in his eyes when Derek glanced up and immediately blushed.

“I know, not much too see, but she’s definitely there, the entire station has been feeling me up for months just to feel her move. Got really awkward once when I was trying to interview a tough-guy burglar and our Sheriff dropped into the interrogation room for a belly-rub … though in hindsight I believe that was more to startle the guy into a confession than anything else. Baby kicked up a storm though, so I guess she liked the attention.”

_Sister, his baby was going to have a sister …_

“I’m grateful, of course, our Sheriff is incredibly accepting of carriers and he’s made sure to hire only people who reflect our station-policy, so I wouldn’t have gotten crap from them even if I had started showing earlier or more, but doing my job without having to lug a little basketball around under my shirt has definitely been easier. If it were up to me I’d be working until the moment I give birth, I mean, I’m almost nine months along and if it wasn’t for the constant pummeling of my organs you wouldn’t even know she’s there, but Sheriff Stilinski almost had a heart-attack when I suggested it,” Parrish continued, watching Derek carefully for a reaction.

Derek could tell that he was being tested by the man, though he wasn’t quite sure why, when everyone and their mother should know how he felt about carriers, and he was so focused on not feeling bitter towards the man who was receiving love and affection from not only the father but also the grandfather of _Derek’s_ baby that he almost missed Parrish’s amused, “She might not be his actual granddaughter, but he sure acts protective enough for five grandparents.”

Derek’s mind came to a screeching halt.

“What? So Stiles … he isn’t … he’s not the …”

“Do you really believe that after all these debates he would have tried to hide the fact that he was about to become the father of a carrier-baby? No way, that would have made his pleas for equal rights even more potent.”

He rested a hand against the tiny curve that Derek, whose mind and heart were still rebooting, was now starting to feel almost jealous of, and chuckled, his eyes crinkling with mirth.

“Besides, I might not be all that much older than him but I arrested that kid twice when he was in high school, unless you have a serious police-officer kink, which I believe is rather incestuous if your father is the Sheriff, any thought of romance between me and my boss’ kid went out the window after that. Not that I mind him being honorary grandfather though, my daughter couldn’t have wished for a better grandparent as far as I’m concerned. And Stiles has already declared honorary uncle rights, so she’ll have plenty of wonderful men in her life that she can always rely on.”

Derek averted his gaze, no longer able to look at the gentle smile on the deputy’s face as he continued to rub his belly and Parrish cleared his throat once again, the weariness from the very beginning returning.

“Am I making you uncomfortable Mr. Hale? I’m neither ashamed of my daughter nor my status and I’m anxiously looking forward to her arrival, so I love talking about her, but we aren’t here for that are we, so how about we …”

“No! No, I’m sorry, it’s not that, it’s …”

Within the span of a minute Jordan Parrish had transformed from the man whose very existence had shattered Derek’s heart into a million pieces to the man Derek wanted to be, even though the relaxed, carefree way in which the deputy was making no secret of the pregnancy and the obvious concern and affection from those around him were making Derek wonder just how many more blows he could take before breaking apart completely.

Some of his grief must have shown on his face because Jordan, who had picked up his notepad again, lowered it slowly, eyes raking over Derek’s hunched shoulders and the arms he had once more wrapped around his midsection.

“You know … sorry for once again being blunt, but you’re not at all like I expected you to be when I came to your rescue in that store,” Parrish said, tone almost wondering, and Derek blinked quickly, telling himself to get his emotions back under control stat.

“Why did you even do it? I mean, your colleagues are right. I’m Derek Hale, you shouldn’t have felt obligated to …”

“May I stop you right there, Mr. Hale?” Parrish interrupted him, leaning forward and resting his arms on his desk, the gesture open and friendly despite the firm tone.

“The one important element of the debate you’ve been having with my boss’ son’s organization is equality, equal rights for all citizens, and that not only includes carriers having job-protection whether or not they want to have a family, but also non-carriers who are being attacked for their views. I might no agree with you Mr. Hale, not at all, in fact, but you _should_ be able to voice your opinion, just like we are. I wasn’t about to let someone physically harm you for them, I am good at my job and I intend to keep it that way, pregnant or not,” he said firmly and Derek stared at him, unsure how to respond to more kindness than he had experienced from the pro-carrier faction in months.

Parrish sighed, looking like he was having an internal debate before he broke off a chunk of the muffin and chewed, his expression guarded.

“Let me tell you something Mr. Hale. I’m basically the embodiment of all the stereotypes your company has been mud-slinging around for months. I messed up with my birth-control, had an unprotected drunk-ish threesome at a Halloween office party and there are currently a very nervous Roman centurion and an anxious pirate waiting for the paternity test result we’ll only be able to do _after_ my daughter is born, to see which of them is actually her other father. And that sucks, in more ways than one, because at this point I think they’re both hoping she’ll be theirs, but we’re all adults and we’re making the best of it. Has it been easy? No! Would I have wanted to have my first child while in a stable, happy relationship? You bet! But she’s going to be here soon and what I wanted is going to be secondary to the reality of her and her needs. In between me, the pirate, the centurion, the honorary grandfather, and her honorary uncle my little girl is going to grow up with love and the knowledge that while unexpected she was _never_ unwanted. But all the rest of society is going to see is a slutty cowboy who slept around and is having a kid out of wedlock without even knowing who the other father is. And my innocent baby is going to be branded with the stigma even worse than she would have been if I was a woman and the prejudice she will encounter is already breaking my heart, but will I resort to petty prejudices and hate-crimes because of it? No! I want my daughter to grow up knowing there are always two sides of a coin and I’m sharing all of this with _you_ because my instincts tell me that there’s a side of you that you are very carefully hiding from the world. And forgive me for being frank once more, but maybe the side that you’re hiding is actually the one that people should see. Just a thought.”

Derek hardly dared to breath, overwhelmed by the other man’s story and the confident, optimistic way he was handling a situation that Derek, who was already having actual nightmares about having to tell _one_ baby-daddy about his pregnancy, couldn’t even imagine being in.

“I’m not hiding anything,” he finally whispered, wanting to brain himself right after and Jordan cocked his head, giving him a long, hard stare that made Derek almost nauseous with nerves.

“I think you should talk to Stiles,” Jordan finally decided and Derek almost choked on his own spit in shock, not having expected _that_ at all.

“I … _what_?”

“I might not be a Sheriff yet but I have a gut instinct that usually doesn’t fail me, and what my instinct based on the way you’re behaving is telling me is that you and Stiles could be much more productive if you worked _with_ instead of against each other. Not my business, obviously, but I just thought – since I have you sitting here already – I’d let you know.”

He grabbed his notebook, open expression shifting back to cool professionalism as the turned towards the computer.

“Now, I’ll just type up your statement really quick and then you are free to go. Take care of yourself Mr. Hale, there are many people who are angry at you right now and I’d hate to see them prove the opposition right about that horrid ‘carriers are hysterical and irrational’ stereotype.”

As he clicked away on his computer Derek focused on his breathing, feeling raw and exposed in a way he didn’t like at all. He was fairly certain that Parrish had no idea he was pregnant as well, but if it was _that_ obvious that he was hiding something, not only to Erica but also to people he had never met before, it would only be a matter of time until his secret came out.

And he definitely wasn’t ready for that yet.

He could feel the Sheriff’s cool gaze on his back all the way to the front of the station and then out of the door and when he stripped off his jacket in his bedroom an hour later he couldn’t quite keep in the pained whine as he saw the tiny bulge of his navel pushing out against the already stretched shirt he had been wearing underneath the jacket.

It was as prominent as he had feared and he slowly sank down onto the bed, burying his face in his hands in resignation.

Unless he wanted to live in sweater jackets from now until the birth there was no way Erica or Cora weren’t going to notice this and as much as he had wanted to pretend that he was going to be able to hide his condition until the very end he finally had to face the facts.

His secret was about to be discovered and he could only pray that it wouldn’t be by Stiles.

Or Laura or Peter for that matter.

He could deal with Cora, since he actually had high hopes that his little sister would keep in touch with him, though it would probably take her a while to forgive him for all the secrecy.

Not that he hadn’t thought about telling her, especially during the long nights when he couldn’t find a comfortable position because of the child’s kicking and felt devastatingly alone and overwhelmed with the entire situation, but he just couldn’t.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her to keep it a secret, she had, after all, kept the news of Danny’s pregnancy mum for almost eight months, but having to keep this a secret from the rest of their family was a burden that Derek did not want her to shoulder.

Cora still lived with Laura, Laura, who currently lived and breathed Anti-Carrier-Propaganda and Derek knew Cora well enough to be aware that it would maybe take two, three days at the most before his little sister would lose her temper if she knew that all of Laura’s ignorance was currently targeted at her own brother.

Laura – beautiful, protective Laura, who had been sucked in by Peter and Kate’s Anti-Carrier Crusade, indoctrinated to the point where not even their close sibling bond, forged after the fire, would prevent her from cutting him out of her life.

Derek knew that he shouldn’t accept it, knew that he should probably fight for the sake of the child, if not his own, but forcing your opinion on someone had never gone well.

Not that he cared all that much about Peter, but losing Laura was going to hurt.

“You’re worth it though, Baby, you really are,” he whispered, curling around his belly as he turned off the lights in his parents’ bedroom, staring into the darkness and focusing on the gentle movement inside.

“It’s only going to be a matter of time,” he muttered, partly to himself and partly to the baby and when the baby kicked in what seemed to be agreement he chuckled darkly, wrapping both arms around himself protectively.

It was going to happen soon, any day now, really, but he desperately hoped he would at least make it through the heavily publicized Central Park event he had gotten a message about earlier that day, which, on top of general information, had included a very stern demand from both Laura and Peter that he better be in shape until then.

He had almost laughed about it, the demand seeming all the more ironic to him given the fact that, due to the wonders of something that was apparently called belly-popping, his shape had dramatically changed in the few days he had been here.

“No more growing for you, at least not for a couple of days,” he whispered to the baby, shaking his head against the fear once more building up inside of him.

Having his secret exposed in front of a massive live audience really wasn’t high on the top of his priority list.

 

====================

**_26 Weeks_ **

“Have the Hales replied to our invitation yet?”

Kira twirled around on her chair, fixing Stiles with a slightly impatient, but also somewhat compassionate expression.

“Derek’s going to be there, if that’s what you’re asking,” she said, turning towards her computer again where she had been working on a flyer for the event with Danny.

“If he’s even going to come at all, I mean, they’ve been hiding him in their ivory tower for weeks, I doubt he’ll show up,” Jackson commented from the carpet, where he was currently trying to teach five-months old Nicky to crawl, having firmly refused to believe his best friend’s assurances that the baby was a bit too young for that sort of activity yet.

“Why wouldn’t he, he’s been their mascot for months now, they can’t well show up without him, it would make them look even worse than they already do,” Scott said, smiling softly at Kira as he deposited a new cup of coffee in front of her.

Jackson snorted.

“Well, pretty sure Peter locked him in the diet-exercise dungeon after that photo made the rounds four weeks ago, you know, the one where he looked like a glowing father to be? Only with serious issues? There was so much ridicule on social media I highly doubt they want to subject themselves to that again.”

“Can you let it go?” Lydia snapped, looking up from where she had been calculating the event cost with a truly exasperated expression.

“We get it, Derek beat you in the Mr. Abs competition that one year they got the gym and Peter wanted to give people incentive to use it. Your abs are better now, you have finally gotten revenge. Let. It. Go.”

“Heck yeah he’s got the better abs,” Aiden grinned from his position next to Jackson on the floor and Stiles snorted softly, still not quite used to _that_ interesting development in the ongoing saga of Lydia and Jackson’s complicated relationship.

“Not in front of the baby,” Danny muttered absentmindedly, his attention directed at a news article about the upcoming event, which featured a recent candid shot of Derek exiting the _Hale_ & _Argent_ building with a grim expression.

“Will Derek Hale revive his ill-fated career as an anti-carrier rights advocate,” Ken Yukimura read out loud, having leaned over Danny’s shoulder to take a look at the website.

“I know we released that statement about body-shaming last month when the internet exploded over Derek gaining sympathy weight for all carriers despite his political stance, but – and I feel bad for saying it – he really does look pregnant these days, doesn’t he? I feel ridiculous even saying it, but from my experience he just _really_ looks pregnant, as ironic as that may seem,” Kira’s father said, reaching for the mouse to click on the photo.

Stiles groaned loudly, at the same time as Lydia muttered, “This obsession with Derek Hale’s abs or the current lack of them needs to stop, seriously!”

“For the one hundred thousandth time since my inbox exploded with questions about whether or not we were arguing about Derek Hale’s baby in that picture last month, _I saw his ID_! He’s not a carrier; ergo, he’s not pregnant! Why are we even still talking about this?” he grunted and Danny turned around with a frown, nodding towards Scott, who seemed just as unimpressed as Stiles.

“People _have_ been misdiagnosed you know,” he said, narrowing his eyes as he looked at the picture again.

Stiles scoffed, getting up from his chair and looking over Danny’s shoulder as well, rolling his eyes when he took in the picture.

“He’s obviously lost weight, if anything, the last time I saw him his jaw-line definitely wasn’t that sharp,” he said, barely glancing at the way Derek’s black overcoat seemed to be straining over the center of his stomach a little.

“He definitely gained some more around the middle, though, I can see that even through his jacket,” Danny mused, and Kira’s father nodded, a frown on his face.

Stiles sighed.

“You people are conspiracy theory drama queens, all of you! Again, I saw his ID. Do you really believe that someone as carrier-phobic as Peter Hale wouldn’t have had his own nephew double and triple checked when he turned 13? You can’t really hide a uterus on an ultrasound you know! Also, and I’m sorry if that’s too much information, but based on what he’s been saying about carriers there’s no way he would have asked me to top when he took me home that night. Which carrier in their right mind bottoms during a one-night stand?” he exclaimed and Danny made an acknowledging sound, though he still looked doubtful.

“That is true, they actually tell you in carrier sex-ed to never bottom for someone you wouldn’t want to start a family with. People do it all the time regardless, of course, but Derek Hale certainly wouldn’t have done it if he was a carrier, I have to agree with Stiles here,” he said and Stiles nodded, raising his eyebrows at Scott when his best friend suddenly whistled.

“Can you even imagine the drama if he actually _was_ pregnant, though” Scott mused, hand lightly resting on Kira’s shoulder, apparently without him noticing.

“I mean holy shit, the media and social media would explode! Not to mention all the backlash from the Anti-Carrier Rights groups, they’ve been celebrating him as their shining example of real manhood for months now!”

“I wouldn’t want to be a pregnant Derek Hale, that’s for sure,” Kira agreed and Mr. Yukimura shook his head.

“If Derek Hale was pregnant that would set our movement back years. I mean, how does it make us all look if one of our own argued against his own rights on television for months!” he mused, nodding towards Lydia when the redhead let out a sound of agreement.

“Good thing he isn’t pregnant then!” Stiles exclaimed impatiently, marching back towards his seat and plopping down with a sigh as he rubbed his hands over his face.

“Who isn’t pregnant?” a new voice rang out and Stiles thrust his thumb towards Cora, who had just dropped her bag on the floor.

“Ask her! She’s also seen his ID and knows he’s not a carrier! Or better, ask Erica, I’m sure she’s handled enough travel arrangements for him over the years to have seen his ID plenty of times! Oh hi, there you are Erica, can you please tell them they are being ridiculous?”

Erica, who had followed in after Cora, raised her eyebrows, her eyes narrowing when she noticed the picture of Derek that was still pulled up on the screen.

“Seriously? Again? How many more times do we have to talk about this? Where there’s no uterus there’s no baby! And besides, how would you like it if some idiots on social media spent their entire day shaming _your_ body?” she snapped, glaring at Danny specifically, who held up his hands in surrender.

“Not to mention that my brother would have never been able to keep something like this a secret! I mean he’s not the prime example of communication, true, but something like this? A _baby_? No way he would have hidden that, least of all from me, he knows I support carrier-rights!” Cora added, sinking down onto the couch with a cup of coffee.

“Yeah right, because confessing a pregnancy to Laura and Peter Hale was the first thing on my mind, too, when I got pregnant,” Danny muttered and Cora glared at him sharply.

“Laura and Peter? No! Me? Yes! Also, do you really believe he would have gone through with these stupid debates while pregnant? Derek’s not an idiot; he would have never risked that kind of exposure in such a situation! And on top of that, Stiles is right, he is not a carrier! Peter would have _never_ given him a leading position in the company if he were, no matter what Mom and Papa would have wanted! He’s under a lot of stress right now and it’s having an effect on his body, that’s all there is to it and you should all be ashamed of being so hung up on it!”

“See? I told you! Now can we talk about something else, we have far more important things to do than discuss Derek Hale’s imaginary uterus!”

Stiles was glaring at the entire room and after a short, awkward pause everyone turned back to what they had been doing previously, as Cora and Erica sat down left of Stiles, who was sorting through the recent statistics he was planning to use in the upcoming Central Park debate.

“If there’s one good thing coming out of this it’s that so many universities are actually coming out with research that proves our point right now,” he muttered and both Erica and Cora nodded in agreement, their voices hushed as they started speaking to each other.

Stiles hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, really, he hadn’t, but when the name ‘Derek’ came up for the fifth time he set his papers down, staring at them with a pleading expression.

“What? For the love of all that’s holy, _what_?”

Erica sighed.

“I thought you put a Derek-Talk embargo on me a couple of weeks ago?” she said testily and Stiles snorted, gesturing between them and himself with a meaningfully raised eyebrow.

“You think you’re whispering but you’re really not! So tell me, what’s going on with him? Anything I can use in the debate?”

Cora narrowed her eyes.

“Yeah. If you want to use the fact that my brother’s been so stressed out we actually had to send him on vacation to our summer home in Beacon Hills, where he was then attacked in a store and had to spend time at your father’s station for questioning then by all means, use it to your advantage! Reluctant Anti-Carrier-Rights advocate attacked with a can of peas by furious carrier-baby, movement’s claim that they will take the higher road set back years! It’ll be a riot!”

“Attacked?” Stiles asked with wide eyes and Erica nodded grimly.

“Some woman threw a can of peas at his head and it barely missed him. Then she tried to actually take a swing at him! Thankfully that adorable deputy-buddy of yours stepped in, who knows what could have happened!” she explained and Stiles frowned.

“Jordan? My Jordan? Jordan came to Derek Hale’s rescue? That’s ironic! Hope your brother he treated him well at least, my dad says he’s begun to show lately,” he said, already pulling out his phone to text the expecting deputy.

Cora scoffed.

“Despite what all of you believe Derek would never mistreat a carrier! I’ve been trying to tell you this for months, he’s not as carrier-phobic as my crazy uncle forces him to pretend he is!” she snapped and Stiles snorted again.

“You keep saying that, yet the only Hale who regularly shows up here at the headquarters and tries to help us out as much as she can is you! If he was really against your uncle’s hatred regime he would have found a way to reach out to us, not fight us with half-assed arguments on television! You can spin this all you want, your brother is a coward and I cannot respect cowards!”

Cora rubbed the bridge of her nose, her expression pinched.

“You know what? Let’s not talk about my brother! I’ve had it, with both of you! He’s hurting, you’re hurting, and you are both too idiotic to swallow your damn pride and admit that maybe you both completely got the wrong idea about each other! He’s not the super-villain you’ve made him out to be and if he wasn’t so afraid of our uncle and Kate he would …”

“See? Afraid! This is not an issue we can afford to be afraid of! This is an issue where we have to show courage! Maybe he’s not the villain here, maybe he’s just another victim of your family’s carrier-phobic regime, but if he doesn’t reach out for help he’s not going to get it from me!”

Stiles thrust his chair back and stormed out of the room, leaving behind a frustrated Cora and annoyed Erica.

Outside Stiles banged his head against the wall, pulling back with a wince as he rubbed at his forehead.

Unbidden, his thoughts went back to the aftermath of the last debate, the way Derek had wrapped his arms around himself as if he was afraid Stiles would seriously hurt him and even though Stiles had been furious at him at that point he hadn’t quite been able to squash the guilt he had been feeling ever since the incident in the bathroom.

Derek had been out of line, but so had he, and the pained look on the other man’s face as he had crashed into the sink had seared itself into Stiles’ memory.

He had subtly tried to get information out of Erica in the week following, trying to figure out if he had actually injured the man, but Erica had denied it, claiming that ever since her boss had stopped going to the gym on a regular basis she had frequently seen him rub at his back anyways and that having back-pain was almost normal for Derek at that point.

Stiles sighed deeply as he pulled up the hated picture that had sparked so many online rumors, staring at the barley visible softness of the older man’s midsection.

If he hadn’t seen Derek’s ID he probably would have been the first to spin wild conspiracy theories, only supported by the worried conversations he had overheard between Cora and Erica in the past weeks, but he _had_ seen the ID, he knew for a fact that Derek was not a carrier.

Absentmindedly Stiles traced his finger over the slight roundness protruding from Derek’s midsection, jerking his finger away as he realized what he was doing.

If Derek had been a carrier he would have been deeply worried right now, for all kinds of reasons … but Derek wasn’t a carrier and the sooner his friends realized that the better.

 

=================

When Derek stepped back inside his loft on Saturday evening he could almost feel the way his entire body tensed up in slow-motion, the familiar surroundings not a comfort but a painful reminder of how messed up his reality currently was.

Sighing he dropped his bag on the floor, wincing in pain when the movement aggravated his sore back muscles.

He had had to stretch his legs more times than ever before on the drive back and by the time he had dropped off the rental car and taken a cab home he had been in serious pain and longing for a warm bath.

He had to unpack but the warm water was calling to him and so he decided to give in, figuring that unpacking would probably be easier if his muscles weren’t so tense.

While the water was running he inspected his body in the bathroom mirror, wondering if the universe was secretly a sadist.

Many people gained a bit of weight when they went on vacation, so there could have been a reasonable explanation, but Derek doubted that anyone had ever gained this much weight in a week.

He had read that it was normal for a pregnant belly to change shape dramatically over the course of a night, that it could even change shape during the day, depending on the child’s position and movement, but he had hoped that he would be spared at least that.

That even if he wouldn’t be one of the men who were able to hide their pregnancy literally until the minute they gave birth, he would at least belong to the category that looked a bit chubby at best, or maybe the category that sported little bellies that looked like the beginning of a beer-gut.

What he was looking at now, however, was neither a beer-gut, nor a little bulge of extra chub.

This was a pregnant belly, still small enough to be hidden by a large jacket, but definitely and undeniably pregnant, from the way it curved out from his ribcage and then dipped back in towards his pelvis to the pushed out bellybutton at the center.

As he sank into the warm water Derek wondered why he was even surprised about this.

It had been so long since he had started hitting the gym on a regular, oftentimes grueling regimen, that he had completely forgotten that a lot of the width of his frame was actually muscle, that without these muscles he wasn’t by any means a small man, but not an overly large man either.

In addition to that he was obviously carrying low, unlike most men who carried high and were thus able to hide their condition longer, and on top of that his baby had also apparently decided to grow in a way that would have enabled him to model paternity wear for the leading carrier-clothing brand … had he felt the desire to lose his mind and expose his secret in a rather flashy way, of course.

He had filled the tub almost to the top but in this half-seated position his belly was actually large enough now to breach the surface and he shook his head, wondering how in the world he was supposed to hide this from Erica now, who had had to buy him larger clothing two or three times at this point and was all too aware of his changing body-shape.

“I love that you’re growing, I think that means you’re doing well, but you’re getting me in serious trouble here, you know that, right?” he asked softly as he stroked over the taut skin, closing his eyes and leaning back against the silicone head-rest cushion as he felt his back muscles slowly unclenching.

After a while the child started kicking again and he opened his eyes, following the movement under his skin with a soft smile, still a little freaked out by the alien sensation but relieved at the visible confirmation that the baby was doing ok.

He rested a hand on his belly and closed his eyes again and because he was so relaxed he neither heard the sound of a key turning in the lock, nor the clacking of high heels coming closer to the open bathroom door.

“Hey Derek, sorry for barging in like this but I just wanted to make sure you’re ok after not hearing from you since …”

As if it had been waiting for an audience the baby chose that exact moment to deliver its most dramatic kicking-performance yet, the movement actually disturbing the water, and Derek’s eyes shot open the same moment that a set of keys fell to the floor, accompanied by a gasp full of horror and disbelief.

“Derek?! What was … why would … are you … holy shit, you really _are_ pregnant!?”

Derek had anticipated the horrible feeling of vulnerability and exposure when his secret was finally discovered – but he hadn’t expected for it to become so humiliatingly literal.

The universe was definitely, and undeniably so, a sadist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone wants to yell at me for this cliff-hanger, please know that it was either this or cliffing the next chapter (since I had to make a break somewhere) and believe me when I say that that one would have been worse ;). 
> 
> Next Chapter Update: Most likely Sunday  
> Chapter Title: Everything Falls Apart  
> Chapter Summary: The ERC was expecting some sort of a publicity scandal resulting from their Central Park open debate forum event, but no one could have quite expected the magnitude.
> 
> P.S.: I threw a TON of foreshadowing in here, just fyi.
> 
> I love the continued enthusiasm for the story, thank you, seriously! :)


	13. Everything Falls Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ERC was expecting some sort of publicity scandal resulting from their open debate in Central Park, but no one could have quite expected the magnitude.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. Alright, this chapter is insanely long, so the next update probably won't be until Wednesday/Thursday, but it was either that or cliffing it in the middle, which, after the last cliff-hanger, I didn't want to do ;). 
> 
> WARNING 
> 
> \- I'm going to issue a general warning for strong language, because that's a thing that happens in this chapter. Not anything stronger than I've used before to make the way the characters speak realistic, but there's quite a lot of it, so I thought I'd point it out. 
> 
> \- There is also talk about pregnancy complications, so please proceed with caution if that hits close to home
> 
>  
> 
> Finally, thank you guys so much! I think this last chapter has gotten more comments than 2-3 of my one-shot fics combined, so thank you so much for the enthusiasm and the kind and respectful way in which you voice your opinions on the story - it means a lot! 
> 
> Oh and I took the liberty of counting up the "Who walked in predictions/preferences", so before we proceed:
> 
> Cora: 8  
> Erica: 7  
> Laura: 4  
> Kate: 2
> 
> Let's see who won, shall we?

**26 Weeks - Continued**

“Derek? Holy shit, Derek, something just moved in your stomach and I know that’s impossible, but _oh my god_ , are you _pregnant_?”

There was no sense in denying it, not when the truth was so clear to see and for a brief moment Derek felt a strong sense of relief that the secret was finally out, only to discover that he had absolutely no idea how to proceed from here.

“Yeah, I’m … I … I’m going to have a baby,” he replied, voice breaking towards the end.

Out of all the reactions he had expected from the shell-shocked woman staring at him, tears had definitely not been it.

“Derek … oh my god, Derek! I’m so sorry, I … _I should have seen this_! I should have helped you, I should have …”

Derek had never seen Erica cry, not even in the alley behind the bar as he had struggled to put into words what Kate had done to him, though she had come very close then, her eyes moist as she had held on to him with a tight grip.

Yet, she was crying now, the tears streaming down her face as she fell to her knees next to the tub and wrapped her arms around him, sobbing into his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry!” she repeated over and over and Derek could only pat her back, feeling absolutely flabbergasted at this completely unexpected response.

“Erica … please, please stop, please I … this is not your fault, you don’t have to be sorry, please don’t cry,” he said helplessly but Erica only clung to him harder, shaking her blond curls wildly.

“I knew something was off about you for months, and I should have connected the dots! I failed you, Derek, I should have looked out for you, I …”

She continued sobbing and Derek was quickly becoming aware of three things.

One, the bathwater was running cold and he was starting to freeze.

Two, the position he was currently sitting in, with Erica clinging to him like a monkey, half in and half out of the tub, was starting to really put a strain on his back.

Three, he was very, very naked and exposed and even though he generally wasn’t body-shy and wouldn’t have cared about Erica seeing him naked in his normal state, he was feeling very uncomfortable about it now.

“Erica, please, let me get out of the tub, ok? I’ll explain, but I need to get out of here right now.”

“Of course!” Erica sobbed, seemingly noticing just how naked he was for the first time as she not only turned around but fled the bathroom, her abrupt departure followed by the sounds of cabinets clanking in the kitchen.

As he got dressed as quickly as possible Derek almost felt like he was in the twilight zone, wondering if the past minutes had been a dream, but when he walked out of the bathroom, dressed in a comfortable pair of sweats and an old t-shirt that had fit him reasonably well before the vacation but was straining now, Erica was pacing up and down in the living room area, taking a swig out of one of Peter’s expensive Whiskey bottles every now and again.

“I’m so, so sorry Derek! I shouldn’t have walked in on you like this but the door was wide open and you _never_ leave the bathroom door open when you’re actually doing naked stuff in there, even when you’re alone, so I couldn’t have … I would have never …”

She looked horrified and heartbroken and Derek shook his head quickly.

“It’s ok. I mean … That’s not how I wanted you to find out, so I guess that part wasn’t ok, but …”

He trailed off, unsure how to proceed and when Erica whirled around towards him she had obviously gotten over the initial shock.

“I love you but I want to slap you! Only you can’t slap pregnant people so I won’t, but so help me god, Derek Sebastian Hale, I would slap you so fucking _hard_ right now if I could!” she exclaimed, taking another swig from the bottle and then slamming it on the couch table with a grimace.

“How could you be such an _idiot_ and not tell anyone!? Do you even know how dangerous it was to hide this for so long? When did this even happen? And how far along are you? Are you going to give birth any minute? Am I going to have to deliver your baby here on the floor?”

“26 weeks. I think,” Derek mumbled and Erica stared at him, her eyes widening to a point where it was almost comical to look at.

“26 weeks? But you look … Danny never even … your belly is so … are you having triplets or something?”

Derek blanched, the thought that there was more than one baby inside him never even having occurred to him.

“No … at least I don’t think so?” he tried weakly and Erica let out a pained whine.

“You don’t _think_ so? Have you even gone to a doctor _once_? Does _anyone_ know about this? Are you even taking care of yourself?”

She gasped when Derek shook his head, her expression almost panicked now.

“How couldn’t you … I mean why would you … _fuck_ , Derek, you got _drunk_ two weeks ago! Why would you do that when you’re having a baby, what the hell is going on here, I don’t understand this!?”

“It was a mistake, but I had to do it,” he said quietly and Erica looked like she was about to launch into another rant when all the fight suddenly went out of her, her face paling.

“Deucalion … you wanted to hide this from Deucalion! And Peter. And Laura. Fuck, Derek!” she whispered, and when Derek nodded she sank onto the couch, staring at him with once-again tear-filled eyes.

“How could this even happen? Seriously Derek, how did this happen, you aren’t even a carrier! Right? At least I thought you weren’t? And when did you even find out, heck, _how_ did you find out in the first place?” she whispered, though her tone had softened a little when she noticed the dark shadows under Derek’s eyes and the pregnant man sighed, wondering which of her thousands of questions to tackle first.

“I had no idea I was a carrier so I was probably misdiagnosed as a child? It rarely happens but it does happen on occasion, so I guess I was just one of the ‘lucky ones’. Trust me, I still haven’t quite wrapped my mind around it, but the evidence is pretty obvious, so I figure I’ll have to come around to it fast …”

He trailed off, remembering that frightening afternoon in the office and Erica’s concern clearly.

“Do you remember the day you sent me home because you thought you had poisoned me with a lox bagel?” he asked and Erica nodded, her eyes widening in fear.

“Did that hurt the baby? Oh my god, did I poison …” she began but Derek held up his hand, silencing her.

“The bagel was fine, I just … I was sorting through my notes for the meeting and suddenly I felt a kick inside my stomach and I just … panicked. That’s why I threw up, not because of anything I’d eaten. And when you sent me home I spent the next 24 hours waiting for more movement, convincing myself that I had just imagined it after all, but then it happened again and I went out to buy a test and after that it was … well … somewhat obvious.”

Erica was staring at him, her expression stunned.

“That was like two months ago Derek … you’ve carried all of this around with you for _two months_ without telling anyone? Without telling _me_? Hell, without telling _Cora_? I can’t believe it! I absolutely cannot believe it, how are you even still standing, how did it not drive you completely insane?”

Derek shrugged, resting his hands on his belly and rubbing gently, using the gesture as a calming mechanism.

Erica took a sharp breath, openly staring at him with an expression that was a mixture of wonder and pain.

“I wasn’t _completely_ alone … but I wasn’t in a good headspace, either,” he finally admitted, smiling softly when Erica muttered, “Yeah, that part has been _obvious_ for weeks!” under her breath, finally sounding a little like herself again.

For a while they were silent and eventually Derek started to shuffle from one foot to the other, his back reminding him that he should probably sit down.

“Are you in pain, Derek?” Erica asked, her voice small and afraid and Derek pressed his hand against his back in consideration, deciding that it had hurt worse.

“It’s normal I think. Have had to deal with it for a while,” he said softly, letting out a deep breath as he sank down into his armchair, both hands coming to rest on his belly.

When Derek looked back at his assistant there was softness in her eyes, her cheeks blushing when she realized he had caught her staring at his belly.

“I can’t believe you went on television to argue for the discrimination of carriers while carrying your own little baby, that must have been … yeah, wow, I can’t even begin to put it into words! I mean I always knew you weren’t as opposed to carrier-rights as the rest of your family, but this is … wow! I’ve defended you in front of my friends for so long, I don’t even know what to say anymore,” she muttered tiredly and Derek sighed guiltily.

“Are you … are you going to leave? It’ll come out soon enough and I’ll probably lose my job, so if you want to be gone before all of that happens I’d …”

“Oh my goodness, _Derek_!” Erica exclaimed, shooting up from the couch and kneeling in front of his armchair, her hands gripping his legs and looking like she had never encountered a more idiotic person in her life.

“I know you can be a bit thick sometimes, figuratively and, I’m sure we can all agree, a bit literally around the waist right now, but even you, Mr. I-Hide-My-Pregnancies-For-Months-Because-I-Can Hale can’t be _this_ dumb! Why do you think did I stay at your company all this time, while my friends were being fired and leaving on their own accord left and right? The answer is _you_ , you big dummy! I’m sure this doesn’t come as a surprise to you, but you are pretty much the professional love of my life and I just couldn’t let you fend against your bat-shit crazy family on your own! Well, except Cora, obviously,” she added hastily, her fingers shaking as she tore at her hair in frustration.

“I love you, too,” Derek replied after a short silence and Erica froze, clearly feeling the weight of those words.

More tears sprang into her eyes when she whispered, “ _You better_!” and then launched herself at him, face buried into his shoulder as her arms wrapped around his neck.

She was huffing and puffing in righteous fury, but Derek could feel the dampness on her cheeks as well and he brought up both of his arms to hold her tight, hoping she realized just how much he had needed to have someone on his side and how grateful he was that she was offering him her strength, despite feeling undeniably and obviously betrayed.

Eventually the pressure of her weight against his belly became too uncomfortable, however, and he nudged his nose against the side of her head, whispering, “Careful, you’re squishing me a little,” wincing when Erica squawked right into his ear and quickly pulled away, once again staring at his swollen belly.

She looked very conflicted and Derek recognized her twitching hands for what they were.

**“** Do you want to touch?” he asked and Erica immediately snatched her hands back, the tips of her ears glowing red.

“I don’t know Boss … might be inappropriate for me to feel you up and all,” she mused, trying for bravado, and Derek shook his head, reaching out for her hands and gently pressing them against his belly.

“I honestly can’t believe I didn’t connect the signs! It’s so obvious in hindsight!” she whispered, carefully feeling along the taut skin and smiling in surprise when the baby nudged against her hand.

“Oh my god, there really is a baby in here! I mean, not that I didn’t see that earlier, but this is … it’s still mind-blowing and unbelievable but also … _wow_! Hey you!” she exclaimed and Derek nodded, remembering his own wonderment once the realization had truly sunken in.

“Hey little one, I’m your Auntie Erica! Your father is a dumbass, but luckily you’ve got me and Uncle Boyd to teach you how to adult properly,” she whispered as she framed his belly and Derek chuckled, remembering many an occasion when he, busy with holding back his jelly-shot-puking assistant’s hair, had in fact wondered if _Erica_ would ever start adulting properly.

“Ha! Don’t listen to the lies your parents will tell you about me, I …”

Erica trailed off, her expression suddenly shocked again, and, Derek was startled to realize, afraid.

“ _Parents_! Plural! Derek, I don’t even want to ask this, it seems so … so … but you said you were 26 weeks along and that means you conceived this baby at the beginning of January and that can only mean that ... _Holy shit_! Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit! Oh my god, please tell me it’s not true, please …”

She trailed off, mouthing, “Oh no!” before clapping her hands over her mouth when Derek, overwhelmed by all the lies he had told for months and worn thin by the fear of having everything exposed, closed his eyes and nodded.

 “Holy shit, holy shit, _holy shit_!” she gasped and Derek grasped her hands, holding them tightly.

“Erica, listen to me, please! You _cannot_ tell him, I beg you, please don’t tell him!” he said as firmly as possible and Erica gawked at him, already shaking her blonde curls wildly.

“It’s his _child_ , holy crap, Derek, you can’t keep this from him, this is way too big, this is …”

“This was a mistake and I’m sure he never meant for it to happen! We used condoms, Erica, granted, I realized six weeks ago that the first one we used must have been expired and I have no idea if there was anything wrong with the one that he had on him, but this wasn’t meant to happen! It was a hook-up, a hook-up that ended in a disaster when he realized I had fired his former lover! He _hates_ me Erica, I know he does and I can’t bear it, I can’t tell him yet, I …”

“Are you even serious right now Derek? Even if he hated you, which, just fyi, he really, _really_ doesn’t, though he probably wishes he _could_ , he would _never_ in a million years hate this baby! It’s his child, too, Derek, not just yours, and you have to let him take responsibility, he would forever resent you if you kept this from him!”

She looked at him with pleading eyes, hands twitching against his belly.

“Don’t ask me to keep this a secret! I love you and I’d do almost everything for you, but he’s my Batman and I’m his Cat Woman, we’ve gone through high school together, we’ve been through all kinds of crap and I just couldn’t …”

She took a deep breath, looking determined.

“You know I was bullied in school, right? My Sophomore year a bunch of Seniors tied me up and locked me in a shed behind the school for hours because they thought it was _fun_! When I didn’t come home from school my parents called the police and because he used to listen to the police scanner back then he went looking for me himself and found me three hours later. I was sitting in that she, miserable, crying, exhausted, and with pissed pants, because I’d been in there for almost ten hours. You know what he did? He untied me, picked me up, and carried me to the next police cruiser, pissed pants and all, to this day I don’t think he even noticed!

From that day on every time someone tried to look at me the wrong way he’d get into their faces, making clear that I wasn’t to be messed with. He told me that so often that I started believing him and it changed _everything_! He actually introduced me to Boyd senior year and told him that if he hurt me he would come for his balls, all 150 skinny pounds of him, facing off against my 7 feet boyfriend with even more muscle mass than you! That’s the kind of man he is, that’s the kind of father your baby will be lucky to have, and you are doing both of them a great injustice if you keep them from each other! Derek I beg you, do not ask this of me, I can’t support this!”

Derek blinked, cursing his hormones for the tears that were once again brimming in his eyes and Erica gently pushed his hands away, reaching up to stroke his face comfortingly.

“I can’t tell him yet Erica, I just … I still need time to come to terms with all of this myself, I can’t deal with this on top of everything else right now,” he whispered and Erica shook her head softly, sighing as she reached up to kiss his cheek.

“Stiles would protect you, you know that, right? Despite everything that happened between you two he would do anything he could to shield you from the shit-storm that’s about to come once this becomes public, you understand that, right? You no longer have to be alone, ok?” she asked and Derek nodded, turning his head to nuzzle into her hand in gratitude.

“I know. And I promise I’ll tell him! I will, I want my baby to know his or her other father, but don’t ask me to do it now. Give me time. I promise I will just … I need time.”

Erica looked very unhappy with the situation but she nodded, biting her lip as she watched Derek carefully to see if he was being honest.

“Alright Derek. I’ll stay silent … _for a while_. But please understand that for me this is a betrayal of one of my oldest and closest friends! But I love you, too, and I already love the heck out of you and Stiles’ little baby and I don’t want to risk causing you so much stress that something might happen to it, so I’ll hold my peace for now. But you have to tell him before you give birth, ok? That’s literally all I am going to ask of you.”

“I’ll tell him before the birth,” Derek promised, holding up one arm to allow his assistant to crawl up on the armchair and snuggle into his side, pressing his nose into her hair as he listened to her mumble about idiotic men, carrier-phobic asshole executive bosses, and the sorry state of the world in general, and even though her voice was still angry, the touch of her hand on his belly was gentle and blessedly soothing.

“Speaking of that incident in the bathroom,” Erica said after a while and when she glanced at him she looked deeply concerned.

“You were in a lot of pain that night, not only your back but also your belly … first thing tomorrow we’re going to get you to a doctor, we need to make sure you and baby are ok, because Stiles will never forgive himself otherwise! And neither will I, for not forcing you to the ER that night when you were in so much pain you could hardly stand!”

“The baby’s kicks have been strong, I’m sure it’s fine. My belly hasn’t been hurting at all since and it was two months ago. If something had happened then it probably wouldn’t be kicking so often right now. And how am I supposed to go to a doctor? Everyone knows my face right now, I can neither walk into an OBGYN office, nor into the ER, I would be exposed in seconds and I’ve been trying to avoid that for months now!” he protested and Erica scoffed.

“And look how well that went! You’ve been in pain and miserable for months, everyone saw that, even though we didn’t know why! It cannot be healthy to do this without medical supervision! You have to get yourself checked out, this is irresponsible!”

She placed her hand on top of his belly again, rubbing lightly.

“I’m sure Melissa McCall would …”

“Not her!” Derek said quickly and when Erica glared at him he sighed.

“Look, Erica, she’s Scott’s mother, Scott, whom we had fired months ago because of his political views! She’s biased, how couldn’t she be, and I can’t have her tell Stiles, I just can’t!”

“Melissa would never do such a thing, not even if she hated your guts! She is damn good at her job and you’re being unfair if you’re accusing her of something like that!”

Erica sighed, looking deep in thought.

“I get what you’re saying about the doctor’s office or the ER, but you can’t avoid the doctor until you give birth, not after you’ve been under so much stress already. That shit has consequences Derek, Danny almost lost Nicky when he was in his first trimester because he was under so much pressure from keeping all of it a secret and if Ethan hadn’t gotten him to Melissa in time who knows what would have happened! You’re playing Russian roulette here, with your _and_ your baby’s life! Don’t be stupid, please! At least go and see Jennifer, she’d …”

“She’d tell Peter the minute I walked out of her office! No, I can’t do that either!”

Erica was still glaring at him and he sighed, feeling defeated.

“Alright. There’s an old doctor back in Beacon Hills that we used to go to when we were kids. He’s specialized in both pediatrics and OBGYN and of course I haven’t seen him in years but I always liked him. I’ll make an appointment there, it’s a small practice on the edge of town and he can probably close it down for an afternoon without attracting suspicion. But not until after the debate in Central Park on Monday, Peter is already suspicious and if I don’t show up there I might as well tighten the noose around my neck myself.”

Erica shook her head resolutely.

“No Derek, _I’ll_ make the appointment! That travesty in Central Park should be over by 3 in the afternoon, at the latest, and as soon as you step off that stage I’ll drive you up to that doctor in Beacon Hills myself to make sure you actually go through with this!”

She shook her head sadly, snuggling into him once again with a heavy sigh.

“I thought I’d stop worrying once I finally found out what has been bothering you so much, but now I’m freaking out even more!” she whispered and Derek wrapped his arm around her, resting the other on his belly.

He shared the sentiment, but at the same time he felt lighter than he had in almost two months.

 

**=================**

 

When Derek woke up the next morning Erica was curled up in a little ball next to him, while Boyd was softly snoring on the couch.

Derek hadn’t even tried to keep Erica from telling Boyd, aware that, as distraught as she had been, Boyd would have figured out that something was wrong within seconds, and any doubt he had had over the man’s reaction had flown out the window the moment Erica’s fiancé had stepped into the loft, his calm almost a reprieve compared to Erica’s frantic worry and angry tears.

He sat up slowly, carefully swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and then pausing, becoming aware of how hot it was all of a sudden.

They had so far experienced a rather chilly summer in the city, which Derek had been grateful for, since it had allowed him to wear extra layers that had helped conceal his secret, but suddenly it seemed that his luck was about to run out.

He turned towards his thermostat and winced, gaping in disbelief when he read the number 102. Derek had experienced dramatic temperature drops in this city, but couldn’t quite remember an increase of 40 Fahrenheit over night.

He desperately hoped that it would cool down by tomorrow’s out-door event in Central Park, reasonably sure that he wouldn’t be able to stand on a stage for an hour in this weather.

Absolutely sure, in fact, Derek thought when he started swaying on his way to the balcony doors, the heat that had accumulated in front of the large windows making him see stars.

A strong arm came out of nowhere and wrapped around his middle and when he turned his head Boyd was frowning at him, still sleepy-blinky but alert enough to have prevented Derek from making the acquaintance of his floor.

“Easy,” Boyd said calmly as he guided him to the couch and helped him sit, keeping an eye on him from the kitchen as he poured him a large glass of water and when the younger man was satisfied that Derek wasn’t about to fall from the couch he rested one large palm against the side of the pregnant man’s stomach lightly, the barest of touches in acknowledgment before he marched over to wake Erica.

Erica had never been a morning-person and Derek closed his eyes with a soft smile, listening to her grumbling and Boyd’s dry remarks in return as his assistant shuffled out of bed and into the bathroom.

“Hey Derek, do you mind if Boyd and me have shower sex in your bathroom?” she called out and Boyd raised his eyebrow, shaking his head with a long-suffering sigh as he winked at Derek.

“Party-poopers, the both of you,” Erica grumbled, her muttering soon muffled by the sound of the rushing water and Derek was mentally going through his refrigerator to figure out what kind of breakfast he could actually serve his friends when Boyd cleared his throat.

“Hey Derek, I was going to make breakfast, do you mind if I run to the store down the block real quick? You don’t really have anything of nutritional value in this entire apartment and I figure that you and the stowaway need some actual food for a change.”

“The stowaway?” Derek asked and Boyd shrugged.

“Well, a stowaway is a person who secretly sneaks aboard a vessel and you can’t really deny that this little one has had a bunch of us fooled for months, including, based on my fiance’s hard-to-understand sobbing last night, you, so until we come up with something cuter stowaway it is,” he decided and Derek sighed, feeling almost stupid.

“Do you think I’m an idiot?” he asked, certain that Boyd wouldn’t sugarcoat his opinion.

Boyd sighed.

“Nah. I went to a carrier-sex ed class in high school once. My best friend at the time wanted some moral support for that first class and I didn’t mind if everyone thought I was a carrier, so I thought what the heck. That class was all about why carriers don’t have a cycle and the teacher was really stressing the point that because of that lack of cycle it usually takes carriers a while longer to catch on to the fact they are pregnant. I mean, if you’re trying for a baby you’ll notice the signs earlier I guess, but without the cycle that they could miss carriers really have to rely on their bodies going through the standard motions, tiredness, headaches, morning sickness, you name it. If that’s not the case some pregnancies are diagnosed really late, and the accidental neglect is actually the reason the miscarriage-rate is slightly higher among carriers compared to women and not the fact that men are just unsuited for pregnancy, period, as the RMA likes us to believe. Anyway, if you’re a carrier you get taught to notice a certain sequence of physical symptoms, but I also went to non-carrier sex ed and there they didn’t even cover female pregnancy properly … well, at least not at my school, pretty sure they only focused on the pregnancy in carrier-sex ed because they were trying to scare people into not having kids. The point is, if you didn’t know you were a carrier how the hell could you have figured this out earlier? No one ever gets misdiagnosed these days anymore, so it’s not like this should have been everyone’s first conclusion.”

He paused, scratching his head with a frown.

“You _are_ an idiot for not having gone to a doctor though, and if you want my opinion you really should go see Melissa today and not some doctor back in Beacon Hills tomorrow night. Nothing against your childhood doctor, but Melissa is especially trained for high-risk pregnancies and …”

He trailed off, smiling apologetically when Derek closed his eyes, his chest tightening uncomfortably.

“I’m sorry Derek, I didn’t mean to scare you just … get your butt to a doctor as soon as possible, ok? Erica’s already planning your baby-shower, my girl will be devastated if something happens to your little stowaway. As a good fiancé I can’t let that happen. You know?”

Derek nodded, resting his hand against his side when the baby kicked for the first time that morning.

“It feels like it’s doing ok,” he said barely audibly, not even allowing himself to think otherwise.

Boyd cocked his head.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Derek confirmed with a tiny smile and when Boyd coughed politely he held out his hand with a chuckle, taking Boyd’s hand and pushing it against the movement.

“Wicked,” Boyd said, and it was only because Derek had known him for quite a while that he was able to hear the genuine wonderment in Boyd’s trademark dry tone.

“Whatever you’re thinking Vernon, you can forget about it right now! The only baby we’re going to spoil in the next five to ten years is Derek’s. Or babies, because I still think there are at least three or four in there!” Erica announced as she marched out of the bathroom in only her underwear, muttering, “It’s too hot for clothes, who cares!” when Derek coughed politely.

“You should take off your shirt, too, you have heat-splotches all over your neck, that can’t be healthy,” she declared as her hand joined Boyd’s and Derek shook his head in amusement.

“Well, we’ll have to cool you down somehow, don’t even think I didn’t notice my man preventing your dying swan dive earlier! Let’s see …” she declared, a glint in her eye that made Derek wonder if he was going to like this.

Five hours later he was lounging on the couch next to a large fan that Erica had sent Boyd out to buy, sipping on a smoothie enhanced with some pre-natal vitamins specifically made for men – “You should have seen the look on the cashier’s face when he thought they were for me, I think I shattered like five of his stereotypes with one swipe of my credit card” – and enjoying the cooling sensation of his feet stuck in two buckets of ice-water, also courtesy of Boyd’s shopping trip.

Erica, meanwhile, was typing away on her computer, her brows drawing together tighter and tighter as she went through the details of tomorrow’s debate outing with Derek.

The ERC had extended the invitation to attend their heavily publicized open-air Anti-Discrimination discussion platform to the entire Hale family and although Cora had threatened mutiny Peter had put his foot down, forcing all of them, as well as Allison, who had been invited alongside her father and aunt, to attend the forum.

The forum was going to take place in Central Park – how they had managed to arrange that Derek didn’t even want to know, didn’t care, really – and Laura and Cora had been snap-chatting him outfits of light, airy summer dresses all day, agonizing over the question how thin and short a dress could be before it became completely unprofessional.

Their worries were justified, since the weather forecast promised a high of 105 degrees tomorrow, with a ‘low’ in the higher 90s, and neither of his sisters wanted to be photographed with dark sweat stains all over their bodies.

Derek’s concerns weren’t centered so much on sweat stains but rather on the danger of puking and/or fainting all over the podium, since he couldn’t well bring two buckets of ice water for his feet with him.

Not to mention the fact that he had honestly no idea what to wear, now that he had officially outgrown near every single one of his shirts and t-shirts.

“I could just buy you a paternity shirt,” Erica said later that night, lounging on the couch with a glass of ice water after Boyd had taken her wine glass away with a judgmental glare at the thermostat and her fiancé shook his head before Derek could even say anything.

“Babe, paternity wear is specifically designed to accentuate the growing curves of a carrier, I think that’s the last thing Derek needs,” he argued and Erica sighed, looking annoyed.

“I’m sure I’ll find something in my closet, I was a bit heavier in college for a while, don’t worry about it,” Derek promised her, shrugging when Erica stared at his belly pointedly and muttered, “A _bit_ heavier isn’t quite cutting it this time Derek. Just saying.”

As it turned out, Derek’s confidence had definitely been premature, as he found out the next morning when he went hunting through his drawers in increasing desperation, finally pulling out a larger black t-shirt that was made of a relatively thin material and looked just professional enough to get away with under his largest suit jacket.

It was just long enough that he was able to pull it over his belly so that it covered all of it and he exhaled in relief, stepping in front of the mirror – and letting out a growl of frustration.

The material was thin alright – so thin that his pushed out belly-button peaked through without any hope of concealing it. And there really was no way to explain _that_ away; that was for sure.

Cursing loudly Derek went through his bathroom cabinets, hopeful that he maybe had band-aids stashed away somewhere, but the only one he found was a thin one, barely able to cover half of the little knob.

It was a sign, really, Derek decided, when he slammed the drawer in which he had found the band-aid shut with a bang, the force of it opening the drawer under it, in which he still had some bandages from an ankle injury a few years ago.

He wasn’t stupid, he realized that he couldn’t conceal his stomach that way, if there had been any give at all he would have just tried sucking it in all day – and possibly died of a combination of heat and asphyxiation while he was at it.

It would do the job of concealing his bellybutton just fine though, even under the thin shirt, and so Derek got to work, huffing and puffing in annoyance when he found that twisting his torso wasn’t quite that easy anymore.

After about fifteen minutes and lots of swearing he finally admired his handiwork in the mirror.

He had successfully bandaged up his entire belly while he was at it, creating a smooth surface with no lumps, knobs, or anything of the sort, adding the unexpected bonus of supporting his back, which would undoubtedly be helpful throughout the day, since, as far as he knew, the discussion participants weren’t going to be sitting but standing behind podiums, to aid with visibility for the expected large crowd.

There was a sharp kick against his side, followed by a rather uncomfortable movement that almost felt like his baby was trying to roll over. He winced, pressing his hand against the spot to calm the baby, wincing some more when he looked into the mirror and realized just how revealing the gesture would be if he forget himself for even one second and did it on top of that stage.

The baby kicked again, clearly not happy with him about being constricted, but Derek couldn’t really take that into consideration right now, not when he was under so much stress for fear of being exposed already.

More kicks, this time right into his bladder, if his sudden urge to pee was any indication and he sighed, hoping the child would remain calm during the event at least.

Or maybe it wouldn’t matter if he’d be wincing all the way through the discussion, Derek mused as he caught sight of himself in the bathroom mirror, the artificial light making the dark shadows under his eyes stand out even more.

He hadn’t been able to sleep well during the night, courtesy of the heat and – according to some Google research – the lack of the pregnancy pillow that he hadn’t been able to bring himself to buy, too afraid someone would make the connection.

He would definitely ask Erica to buy one of those though, he doubted that the amount of back pain he was in daily was normal, even for someone who showed more than the average carrier.

There was no way around it - Derek looked terrible today, there really was no nicer way to put it, exhausted, stressed, and unwell, so the flinching and wincing would probably fit right in with the overall look he was going for.

Sighing, Derek put on his largest suit jacket, his expression dropping in resignation when he realized he also couldn’t close that one anymore.

It was black on black though, so hopefully it would camouflage the worst of it.

When Derek stepped outside his compartment complex he was hit with a brick wall, or at least that’s what the scorching heat felt like. Walking to the subway station, riding the train, and then walking to his office was completely out of the question, Derek decided on a whim, making use of the taxi that had conveniently just pulled up at the curb to let out two passengers.

The cab driver had cranked the AC up as high as it could go and Derek gave him an extra big tip for it, exhaling in relief when he had finally made it to the safety of his office while successfully avoiding most of his colleagues on the floor.

When he stepped inside his office he was not surprised to see Erica and Boyd already waiting for him, their expressions concerned.

“Are you going to be ok today? They said it’s going to be about 105 degrees and I think that … hold on a second … why do you look like you can barely breathe already?”

Derek didn’t protest when Boyd appeared at his side immediately to lead him to the sofa, wincing when he sat down, the constricting material binding his midsection getting very uncomfortable.

He pulled up his shirt in explanation and Erica gasped, dropping to her knees in front of him and shaking her head.

“Are you out of your mind? You’re not a damsel of the 19th century hiding an illegitimate child with a corset, how are you not in pain right now?”

She made a move to undo Derek’s hard work and he stopped her, shaking his head slowly.

“There’s no other way. This shirt is much too thin, you saw what my navel looks like, everyone will make the connection!” he argued and Boyd clapped a hand on his shoulder, his tone sympathetic.

“They’ll make the connection regardless if you show up looking like this, your jacket might be black but everyone will be able to see your stomach like that. Even if you’ll be standing behind a podium for an hour, you’ll nevertheless have to walk on that stage and I’m really sorry Derek, but trussed up like a Thanksgiving Turkey with special Baby-Stuffing or not, no one is going to mistake this with some extra weight anymore,” he said matter of factly and Derek leaned back against the sofa, closing his eyes in resignation.

“So what now? Not show up? Make a public declaration? Jump off the bridge on the way there?”

“Don’t even joke about that kind of crap!” Erica snapped, her eyes roaming across Derek’s body and blinking quickly, as she tended to do when she was in deep thought.

“Hey Babe … didn’t you buy that summer motorcycle jacket a while back and keep it here? The one that you haven’t gotten to use yet because it hasn’t been hot enough? It was plain black, right, not too sporty? I bet he could wear that, at least for an hour,” she said slowly and Derek gaped at her, shaking his head quickly then wincing when the movement caused white dots to appear in his vision.

“No way! Just … no. I’m not attending the debate in a motorcycle jacket while everyone else shows up in suits and formal wear. It’ll look like I’m having a midlife-crisis, no fucking way!”

“Don’t get snappy with me, it’s your own damn fault for telling me you had something to wear already! I can’t very well go and grab you a suit-jacket large enough off the rack, we’d have to let you try it on and the car is getting here in twenty minutes, no way even I could pull that off!”

“I’ll look like an idiot,” Derek argued weakly and Erica sighed, resting both palms on his belly with a softening expression.

“You can either look like an idiot or very pregnant, your choice, Derek. And between you and me, looking like an idiot is much more fitting given the position you’re supposed to argue with little stowaway-munchkin here on board,” she said, smiling ever so slightly and Derek recognized her attempt for what it was, sighing as he shrugged out of the suit jacket and then let his head fall back on the headrest, his eyes closed.

Thankfully, Boyd really did have a very classic taste in clothing and when he pulled on the surprisingly light jacket the difference in their builds really worked to his advantage, allowing him to actually close the zipper and still have some wiggle room left.

He looked bulky, definitely, but no longer undeniably pregnant and Erica nodded with a grim smile.

“You’ll have to drink lots of water, you hear me? This jacket is made for motorcycle rides in the desert, not for standing in the heat for a lengthy duration of time.”

She trailed off, her eyes narrowing when she noticed the trail of sweat running down Derek’s forehead.

“You’re already too hot, aren’t you? This is a bad idea, isn’t it? Shit. Shit, shit, shit! Well, I can’t come up with anything else and we have to leave in five but Derek, just promise me you’ll be very careful out there, alright? I don’t want anything to happen to you!” she said, tone almost a whisper towards the end and Derek grasped her hand tightly.

“Are you going to be ok riding with your family?” Boyd asked, his arms crossed over his chest and Derek sighed as they made their way out the door and down to the waiting cars.

“Laura wants to go over her notes with me, she believes I need a refresher course after my unscheduled vacation. I’ll be fine. And you guys wanted to be in the audience anyways. You can keep an eye on me from there. Afterwards I’ll go to the doctor and then I can start figuring out how the hell I’m going to break this to my family. I’m going to be ok,” he said, bracing himself as he stepped out of the air-conditioned foyer into the humid heat outside, which once again felt like a brick-wall slamming into him.

Boyd and Erica headed towards the bike-rack while Derek walked over to his waiting sisters, who were both staring at him wide-eyed.

If he hadn’t been so anxious, the expression on both of his sisters’ faces would have been hilarious.

“Uhm … Derek? Are you cold by any chance? Suffering from a lack of adventure in your life? Or – I don’t know – insane?” Cora asked, stunned, and Laura actually snorted as she gave him the once-over.

“A bit too young for a midlife crisis, aren’t you?” she asked and Derek waved at her dress with a raised eyebrow.

“Aren’t you a bit too old for wearing such a short dress in public?”

“Touché,” Laura mused, her eyes flitting over him once more and her expression skeptical.

“Seriously though, not that I want to argue about your fashion sense again Der-Bear, but this is neither flattering, nor the smartest thing to wear in 105 degrees,” she said carefully and Derek shrugged defensively, striding past her and getting into the car, trying to hide his wince at the pulling of the bandage from them as best as he could.

“I was feeling like it,” he said shortly, ignoring both of his sisters’ exasperated huffs.

“You’re going to regret this so much before the day is over, mark my words,” Cora said as she hopped onto the middle seat, giving him a curious frown when Derek muttered, “Wanna bet?” under his breath.

The car ride was short, too short in Derek’s opinion, but at least the child, who had been kicking non-stop for over an hour, had finally gone to sleep, so he was hopeful that maybe, just maybe, he’d go to sleep tonight knowing his secret was still safe.

 

===================

 

Water was good, water was helpful, only this water was already lukewarm, the ice cubes having melted away just like that in the scorching heat and Derek sat the glass back down with trembling fingers, fighting to keep the tepid fluid down.

Next to Laura Peter was speaking, his tone sweetly polite, as per usual, but Derek was no longer able to actually understand what his uncle was saying, his entire concentration centered on the water glass now.

More sweat was rolling down his back, behind his knees, down his calves; he could even feel the skin on his belly starting to itch where the bandage was confining the growing moisture.

He had been standing up here for almost an hour already and even though the bandage had helped with back-support for a bit he was truly hurting now, the constant pain not at all helping his fight to stay conscious.

Derek had used Erica and Boyd as a point of focus earlier, who were sitting in the front of the audience and both looked like they were about to burst from their seats and rush onto the stage, Boyd’s expression uncharacteristically alarmed and Erica looking downright panicked, but when they had started to multiply in front of his eyes he had focused on the water, praying that he wouldn’t have to speak again before the ordeal was over.

As if on cue the baby kicked hard, for the first time in almost two hours, startling him so badly that he almost dropped the glass.

Another kick, this time against his general kidney area and Derek took a sharp breath, chanting a silent mantra of “Not now!” in his mind when the edges of his vision began to darken in response to the pain and the heat.

There were spots dancing in front of his eyes and he gripped the podium even tighter, clamping his lips shut and praying that the steadily growing nausea would pass before and if he had to speak again, not really certain at this point if he’d contribute words or vomit to the discussion.

There was a soft tab on his arm, his muscles twitching both in response and from the strain of holding himself upright and Derek didn’t dare move his head in Laura’s direction, feeling like the small movement would definitely put an end to the increasingly pathetic spectacle that was his fight against the heat.

“Derek, are you alright?” Laura whispered, her tone worried and he could see her anxious expression from the corner of his eye so he nodded ever so slightly, trying to breathe through his nose when the small movement intensified the faint feeling.

Stiles was speaking again now, his tone mostly controlled but clearly furious and exhausted after more or less trading back insults with Peter for almost an hour now and Derek startled badly when he suddenly heard, “… isn’t that right, _Derek_?” the accusation in his voice clear for everyone to hear.

The surprise of hearing Stiles use his given name for the first time in months momentarily overrode Derek’s sense of self-preservation and he realized that it was a bad idea to whip his head towards Stiles even while he did it.

He swayed, his vision blacking out completely and the last thing he was aware of was the ground rapidly rushing towards him.

Then there was nothing.

**================**

 

When Derek woke up he felt very disoriented at first, blinking at the white, unfamiliar ceiling above him in confusion. His mouth felt unbelievably dry and he twisted his head slightly, intending to look for the glass of water he usually kept on his nightstand – only to be greeted with a thin, see-through tube that was connecting his right arm to the IV-bag hanging above his head.

The memories flooded back then; the unbearable heat, the leather jacket, the feeling of dizziness, the pain as he had hit the ground, the baby’s upset kicks …

Derek gasped, both hands shooting towards his belly and feeling frantically, wincing as he pulled at the needle in his hand.

Then Cora was there, exclaiming “Don’t, Derek!” as she grabbed his right hand, gently but determinedly moving it back to a position that wasn’t going to pull the tube out, her free hand coming to rest on his heaving abdomen as well.

Transfixed, Derek stared at the sight of his sister’s hand on his belly, its curve pronounced and unmistakable through the thin hospital gown he was wearing, the knob of his pushed-out bellybutton clear for the entire world to see.

Cora wasn’t saying a word and Derek tried to stop himself from panicking, terrified to look into his sister’s face and see the judgment there.

Instead, he focused on the baby, silently pleading with it to move, begging it to still be alive as he felt tears beginning to pool in his eyes.

Derek felt as if he was about to jump right of his skin when there was a strong kick right below Cora’s hand and he closed his eyes with a tiny sob, thanking the universe that at least his baby was still there.

When he finally mustered up the courage to look at Cora, angry tears were streaming down his sister’s face.

“You stupid, stupid idiot! You idiot-man! You horribly stupid, idiotic man! How could you hide this from us for so long, do you even know the danger you put yourself _and_ that baby in? You could have _died_ … for _fuck’s sake_ , Derek!” she ranted, her chest heaving, and before Derek could reply – or flinch away from her, he wasn’t quite sure yet – Cora had wrapped her arms around him, holding onto him for dear life and sobbing into his shoulder.

“Idiot brother, stupid idiot brother!” she whispered again and again and Derek patted her back helplessly, eyes blown wide open as he tried to get a read of the situation.

Cora’s loud crying had obviously attracted some attention and Derek could hear raised voices from outside, angry voices, voices that definitely belonged to Peter, Laura, and Kate.

He wasn’t ready to face them yet, especially not now, while he was still weak and lying in a hospital, but when the door opened his uncle, sister, and Kate were nowhere in sight.

The woman who had stepped into the room was in her mid to late forties, her curly hair pulled together in a messy bun and her smile gentle, though her eyes radiated sadness.

“Hello Derek, my name is Dr. Melissa McCall, I’m an OBGYN specialized in male pregnancies. I will be taking care of you while you are here and, if you want, beyond,” she introduced herself, motioning for Cora to detach herself from Derek so she could check his vitals.

“You’re Scott’s mom, aren’t you?” Cora whispered, her voice still muffled and Melissa nodded kindly, putting a hand on Cora’s shoulder.

“I remember you Cora, my son talks about you on occasion. I know you mean well, but I really need to have a talk with your brother and I think he would probably prefer to do this in private. You can wait outside for the moment and I’ll let you know as soon as we’re done, but I do have to ask you to give Derek some privacy here for a minute, please,” she said gently and Cora nodded, wiping her eyes furiously as she headed towards the door.

Her hand was already on the handle when she whirled around, her eyes blazing with determination and her face set in a grim scowl.

“You’re the biggest idiot on the planet Derek! Seriously! But I love you, ok? You’re the only brother I have and I love you so fricken much! And I’ll love that little baby and I don’t give a rat’s ass what these … these _bigots_ out there have to say, you get me? You _have_ to know that, alright, you colossal, secret-keeping _arsehat_!” she exclaimed, her hands balled into fists as she gestured wildly and Derek shivered, his eyes still wide in shock as he nodded at his sister shakily, tears once again threatening to run down his face.

Cora nodded sharply, inhaling deeply herself before she opened the door and stepped out into the hall.

The angry voices rose up again immediately and Derek flinched, wrapping his arm around his belly protectively as he heard Cora scream at someone – probably Peter – then there was a loud, authoritative voice bellowing for silence and Derek slumped back into the cushions when he heard a plethora of retreating footsteps, relieved that his family had obviously been escorted from the premises for the time being.

“I’d measure your pulse right now, but I can see you are stressed out much more than you should be without using any of my fancy equipment,” Melissa said softly, directing his attention back towards her.

“Is my baby ok?” Derek interrupted her, not really interested in an update on _his_ condition at the moment and feeling like his heart was going to stop when Melissa’s expression tightened.

“No … please no, please don’t tell me that …”

“Your baby is alive, your baby’s heartbeat is strong, you currently aren’t at risk of pre-term labor,” Melissa said quickly and Derek inhaled deeply, feeling some but not all the tension seep out of him when Melissa continued to look serious.

“That being said, however, we did an ultrasound as soon as you were admitted, partly to make sure the attending physician in the ER wasn’t going crazy when he could feel an enlarged uterus _and_ fetal movement inside the body of a man whose records clearly identify him as a non-carrier, and partly because Erica made it clear that you haven’t received any care at all until now, so we had to check up on baby’s condition as soon as possible. As I said, the heartbeat is strong. We are going to do a couple of other standard tests over the next couple of days but so far nothing on the ultrasound indicates any defects.”

She took a deep breath, expression hardening and Derek held his own, bracing himself in growing anxiety.

“However, your baby is very, very small, just barely over the 5 percentile of expected growth at this stage of the pregnancy and I’m going to be honest with you Derek, that’s not something we were hoping to see,” she said, eyes softening when Derek pushed himself up and gestured towards his belly, his eyes wild.

“But I’m already showing so much more than many carriers ever do, how can it be too _small_?” he exclaimed and Melissa shook her head with a patient expression.

“The size of your belly _can_ be an indicator of the size of your baby but mainly it has to do with the uterus and its position. You’re also carrying low, so that has contributed to your fundal height. Derek, I need you to listen to me carefully, ok, and I need you to try to stay as calm as possible. I know that seems impossible right now, after all the stress you have been under, but please listen. I don’t particularly like this result and I cannot promise you that there won’t be complications, but you still have about 13 weeks left of your pregnancy and a lot can happen in 13 weeks. We might be able to push your child up to a higher percentile once you start taking care of yourself properly under medical supervision and if that happens there is nothing to worry about at all. If the baby continues to remain small we will have to keep monitoring the situation, but that means we can prepare for a couple of scenarios and we can still do our best to make sure your child makes it into this world safely. But you and me will have to work together on this, alright?”

She reached out her hand and, after a brief moment of deliberation, stroked her fingers across his cheeks, expression tightening when she dragged her fingers over the ridges of his cheekbones.

“The baby is small but with strong vital signs. _Your_ vital signs on the other hand are a bit more troubling for now, Derek. Your blood pressure is too low, your cortisol levels were off the charts earlier, and you are also underweight for this stage in the pregnancy. Your younger sister said you went on a diet a couple of weeks ago and I hope you understand that I’m putting an immediate stop to that?”

Derek nodded wordlessly, palms pressed against his belly as he blinked back tears.

“It’s my fault!” he whispered and Melissa cocked her head questioningly, the hand on his shoulder tightening just a bit.

“It’s not going to be of use to your baby if you …”

“But it _is_ my fault! It is! I’ve known I’m pregnant for almost seven weeks and I didn’t go to a doctor, I stressed myself out over trying to hide it, I went on a diet to take attention away from my stomach and I …” he broke off, a scared sound punched out of him and Melissa’s face was suddenly in front of him, eyes searching.

“What? Is there anything else I need to know?”

“I got drunk! I got drunk a little over two weeks ago! Really drunk! I had no choice, I had to … did I poison my baby?”

“How many times?” Melissa asked, her tone firm, and Derek held up one shaking finger, his eyes now swimming with tears.

Melissa sighed.

“It certainly didn’t help, but one instance of binge-drinking doesn’t have to mean your child will be born with fetal alcohol syndrome. It didn’t help the fact that your baby is so small, but I believe that has much more do with your cortisol levels than one night of drinking. Unless … do you drink regularly?”

Derek shook his head.

“It was just the once, I haven’t felt like touching alcohol in months,” he answered brokenly and Melissa nodded, obviously relieved.

“Well, good! That means probably no FAS for your baby that we have to worry about right now. No more alcohol though, no debate about it!”

“I’m done with debates for life,” Derek muttered, sinking back into the pillows and closing his eyes to stop the tears from actually flowing down his face.

“Tell me the risks I have exposed my baby to by being an idiot,” he said softly and Melissa clucked her tongue.

“I’m not sure you’re currently in a physical state to …”

“Please,” Derek whispered and the doctor sighed, the mattress dipping under her weight when she sat down and lightly stroked Derek’s upper arm.

He hadn’t missed his mother so fiercely in a long time and it almost made him want to cry out, his heart breaking apart as he wondered why the doctor was even friendly to him right now, when she was well known for being active for the ERC and one of the most carrier-friendly doctors in the city.

“As I said, we will have to monitor the situation. The most important thing right now is we make sure that the baby stays above the 5 percentile at least; dropping any lower will basically guarantee complications. In case we cannot get the child above the 10 percentile by the time you are ready to deliver we could run into complications such as low blood sugar, lower resistance to infection, or an abnormally high red blood cell count at birth. There might be some issues with the baby’s breathing, but we have very well developed machines to help out those little lungs for a bit. There might be some complications later in life if it comes to that, but we’ll tackle those when the baby is born and I can actually assess its state, talking about these things beforehand will just stress you out unnecessarily. If the baby remains so small it might also influence the birthing process itself, since growth-restricted babies might have a more difficult time tolerating labor. C-sections aren’t a must, but more common in those cases. Another hurdle we’ll tackle once you get closer to your due date.”

“What’s the worst that can happen?” Derek asked and Melissa sighed.

“Stillbirth,” she said carefully, her grip on Derek’s arms tightening when the distraught man let out a scared noise.

“Derek, listen to me. 13 weeks is a long time, none of what I just described has to happen, ok? I can’t make you promises other than that I’ll try everything in my power that it won’t, but I’ve got to have your cooperation here. No more stress, you need to take care of yourself, and you have to let others help you, too. This is a big undertaking to do alone even if you’re perfectly healthy, so in your situation I’d recommend someone moves in with you once you leave the hospital. Based on the screaming match that occurred between your sisters outside earlier I feel confident that Cora is going to be very willing.”

She stroked across his hair comfortingly, one hand lightly resting on his belly.

“Oh, and in case you were wondering, that little run-in with Stiles in the bathroom has nothing to do with your baby’s low weight. It caused a moderate muscle tear in your lower back though, and because the progression of the pregnancy has increasingly put stress on it, it has had a hard time healing. Have you experienced stronger back-pain ever since that incident?” she asked and Derek nodded miserably.

Melissa clasped his shoulder comfortingly.

“Again, less stress, less activity for a while, especially since you are carrying low and the pressure on your back will only increase from here on out. The healing process has already begun and now we’ll just have to make sure it’s not aggravated like that again for a while. It means a bit more discomfort for you, but this is something you can recover from, so do not worry about that for right now.”

The doctor’s pager went off and she frowned at the instrument, shaking her head with a small smile.

“I’m sorry Derek but I’ll have to entrust you to our very competent nurses for the moment. I’ll continue to run tests on you in the next couple of days and we would like to keep you here for at least a week, to make sure you actually get some rest, but I’ll have to go now. I have a laboring carrier up in the delivery room who’s ready to meet his twins, and he’ll not take kindly to me being a no-show,” she said and Derek nodded in acknowledgment, resting his head against the pillows tiredly as she walked towards the door.

“Doctor McCall? How did you even know about it? The bathroom I mean,” he asked suddenly, the thought coming to him spontaneously and Melissa, who had already placed her hand on the door-handle, smiled sadly.

“Let it suffice to say that a very, very, _very_ distraught young man stormed into my office earlier and begged me to tell him his actions hadn’t maimed your baby. I told him that it certainly hadn’t done _you_ any favors but that there was no effect on the baby. It’s not my place to say this and believe me, I chewed him out for even pushing you like that in the first place, but he’s really feeling horrible about this and …”

“He didn’t know and I didn’t know either. Besides, he already apologized to me so there’s nothing else we can say about it. I’m not going to blame him for anything, I promise,” Derek said solemnly, fighting the urge to laugh hysterically at the doctor’s oblivion to the fact that if anyone had hurt their baby it had been him and not Stiles.

“Thank you,” Melissa said firmly, her eyes kind as she gave him a last look.

“You’re a good man Derek. You might not think so right now but this profession has taught me a lot about when people are lying and I firmly believe that no one who is capable of unconditional love can ever be a truly bad person. Misguided, maybe, but not evil. Please remember that in the days to come.”

When she was gone Derek finally allowed the tears to flow, feeling horrible for putting his body under even more stress but unable to stop himself.

He might not be a bad person, but the one thing he knew right now was that if his negligence had irreparably harmed his and Stiles’ baby he would never be able to forgive himself.

 

======================

 

“Rise and shine Momma-Bear!”

Derek blinked slowly, going from sleepy-confused to agitated and alert in an instant when he recognized the voice, his eyes shooting up as he made a grab for the blanket and pulled it closer, trying to sit up at the same and letting out a hiss of pain when his back protested angrily.

Peter burst into laughter, and it was probably the most horrible laughter Derek had ever heard in his life.

“It’s a little late to hide it now, Derek dearest, so why don’t you just drop that blanket and let us all gaze at the miracle of life growing inside of you?” he said, his voice barely above the level of a hiss and Derek’s knuckles whitened as he held on to the blanket, his gaze sweeping over the occupants of the room.

Chris was leaning against the wall across the bed, his arms crossed over his chest and a wary, tired expression on his face, the same expression he had increasingly worn in recent emergency meetings as it had become clear that they were not going to win this fight after all.

Kate was leaning against the foot of the bed, her hands playing with her necklace as she stared at Derek, or rather, the round shape of his belly underneath the blanket, with utter disgust and contempt, a sneer of cold amusement on her face.

Peter was leaning on the other side, his hand gripping the metal so tightly that Derek was certain he would have left a dent had it been a weaker material, his expression full of betrayal and fury.

The worst of all of them, as he had been expecting for months, was Laura.

Laura, who was standing at the window and staring outside with a stony expression, tears slowly dripping down her nose and running down her cheeks as she clenched and unclenched her fists that were pressed against her sides.

“I …” Derek began, voice hoarse and Laura flinched violently, turning away from him even more with her shoulders drawn up defensively.

“Before you say anything my dear nephew, let me show you what your little … uhm … ‘problem’ has forced us to deal with in the past couple of hours,” Peter said, stone-faced as he grabbed the remote for the small television hanging from the ceiling, turning it on and switching to a news channel.

“ … still no official word from _Hale_ & _Argent_ publishers but our sources tell us that, despite being registered as a non-carrier, 29-year old future company owner Derek Hale is in fact pregnant. Following the harshly criticized firing of an eight months pregnant carrier employee earlier this year Hale has frequently appeared on television to defend the family-business’ strict regulations against employing pregnant carriers, facing off against ERC spokespeople Stiles Stilinski and Kira Yukimura alongside his family in an open-air debate earlier today, when he collapsed for as of yet unknown reasons. Joan?”

The camera switched from the blonde, impassively faced newscaster to live-footage from Central Park, zooming out from the face of a red-haired young reporter to reveal the open-air stage in the background.

“At this time the reasons for Hale’s collapse remain, of course, purely speculative, though many have begun to suspect that it was due to a combination of today’s heat-wave and Hale’s attempt to hide his condition with multiple layers of clothing. Here with me is Dr. Samuel Miller, a respected carrier-specialist who operates a privately owned practice just three blocks from here. Dr. Miller, _Hale_ & _Argent_ have yet to release an official statement confirming that Mr. Hale is in fact pregnant, but based on your medical expertise, is there really any doubt left at this point?”

“I feel uncomfortable with making a proper diagnosis without having examined the patient but it certainly looks that way, yes,” Dr. Miller replied haltingly, his expression clearly torn between his belief of honoring doctor-patient confidentiality and the thrill that he was on national television.

Derek flinched as the image changed again, the doctor’s voice droning on in the background as the news station showed footage of Derek swaying behind the podium, his eyes rolling into the back of his head before he hit the ground.

There was a flurry of action that erupted on stage and for a moment Derek couldn’t even see himself anymore, but then he could see Cora cradling his head; could see Stiles knocking over the podium as he wedged himself in between Laura and Peter, his expression shocked; could see Erica rush up on stage followed by Boyd, her hair wild as she gestured at Cora frantically, who had already moved for the zipper of his jacket to open it in an attempt to cool him down.

His assistant had been too late to stop her and when the jacket fell open Derek had to hold back a gasp.

If he hadn’t been involved in the situation at all Derek might have even found it funny how, almost as if the footage had been shot in cinematic slow motion, the bustling activity on stage came to a halt as the people surrounding him stared at his midsection.

The shirt, drenched in sweat, had clung to his skin like paint at that point, highlighting every curve and every inch, the swell even more emphasized by the angle Cora had propped him up on her lap.

He looked pregnant.

There was no other way to describe it.

Transfixed, Derek watched as Laura, who had knelt down next to Cora, reached out a hand and pressed it against his abdomen, her eyes going wide and her mouth opening in shock before she pulled her hand away as if she had been burned, a look of horror spreading all over her face.

The baby had been kicking up a storm just before Derek had fainted, so he could imagine just what had caused Laura to look so scandalized.

More people rushed onto the stage, people from the medical tent it looked like, and Derek could no longer see himself as they surrounded him, hiding his body from view.

However, he could see Laura stumbling towards Peter, gesturing frantically, could see Peter’s expression go stone-cold, while Kate next to him actually took a fumbling step back, her hands clapped over her mouth.

The camera had cut to Stiles then, who had taken a few steps away from all the commotion, staring at the first responders in a way that Derek could only describe as horror.

Unlike Laura’s horror, which has been tinged with disgust, Stiles’ horror was coupled with devastation and Derek could only pray that _that_ particular emotion had been prompted by the fainting itself and _not_ the man’s realization that he was about to become a father to the child of a man he hated.

Before the camera could cut back to the reporter Peter switched off the television, turning towards Derek with a grim smile.

“Well, it looks like we’ll have to confirm it, doesn’t it? After all, as you can clearly see there can be no doubt at this point that everyone has made the connection and if we deny it we’ll lose even more of our reputation than we already have. Tell me Derek … how could this happen? How could you _let_ this happen? How could you do something like this to us, to the company? Your family!”

Derek sat up as straight as he could, his heartbeat galloping when the feeling of fear and helplessness was overtaken by anger.

“How could I _let_ this happen? Are you serious? How was I supposed to even know I _could_ get pregnant? I was diagnosed as a non-carrier, there is no reason in the world I could have known about this!” he exclaimed, the unfairness of the situation bursting out of him all at once.

“Oh poor woe is me, I’m a carrier and I’m mistreated by everyone, boooohooo! Why the fuck didn’t you use protection when you were whoring around, you filthy little sl…”

“Do not … _do not talk to me like that_! _Not you_!” Derek barked, lunging towards Kate, whose sneer had dropped off her face, and then wincing in pain when his back sent a fiery jolt of pain all along his middle.

“Kate! Enough!” Chris snapped, and for a short moment Derek let himself believe the man was about to defend him, having always wondered just how much Chris Argent really cared about the carrier issue.

His hopes were dashed immediately, however, when Chris firmly wrapped his arm around Kate and steered her towards the door, hissing, “We’ll have to deal with the fall-out now, issue an actual statement, the longer we wait the worse it’ll get! He’s your family, you figure it out!” at Peter before the door closed after the Argents.

“This isn’t fair Peter! I couldn’t have known! And I didn’t whore around for fuck’s sake, I …”

“Is it _his_?”

Laura still hadn’t turned towards him but her voice was sharp as a diamond as she continued to stare outside the window.

“What?” Derek asked weakly, flinching when Laura finally whirled around.

His sister looked like she had aged five years in the past hours, her eyes red and filled with anger as she pulled her phone out of her pocket and typed frantically, thrusting the display at him aggressively.

It was the photo of him and Stiles, the one that had led her and Peter to pull him from television duty in the first place, and before he could deny it – and deny it he had full intentions of doing, not even wanting to imagine the damage his uncle could cause with this information – Laura had already pulled it back with a low whine.

“It’s all over your face! Fuck, Derek, out of all the people in New York City you had to go and get knocked up by the freaking spokesperson of the _ERC!?_ ”

“You were lying, then,” Peter said slowly, having taken the phone out of Laura’s shaking hands and studying it carefully.

“When I asked you all those months ago if _you_ had fucked him, you were lying to my face. A filthy, lying, dirty whore, just like all carriers and …”

“I’m not a whore! Stop saying that! And he’s not the other father, so you can …”

“Do you honestly think I’m going to believe a single word coming out of your mouth right now? Think again! I know how pathetic and incapable you are at romantic relationships, getting knocked up by the one person who can cause us real publicity damage right now just fits in with your track record. You can deny it all you want but Laura’s right. It _is_ all over your face! Maybe I should just …”

Derek would reflect about the sheer magnitude of the hurt his uncle’s words had inflicted upon him later, especially since he was the only person I his family who knew about Kate, but right now he had other priorities.

“Don’t you _dare_ tell him he’s the father or I’ll …”

“Or you’ll _what_? Waddle at me and try to crush me with that impressive belly of yours? I don’t think so. No, Derek, you’re not going to do anything. The only thing you’ll do is follow our fucking work code that you’ve been ‘defending’ – and oh, how your lackluster performance _finally_ make sense now – for months and resign your position immediately! There is no place for you at the company and there’ll be no place for you and your brat at my table, so don’t even think you can expect any help from us! You got yourself into this mess, see how you can drag yourself out of it! You’re done! You’re nothing but a disgusting, filthy little carrier-bitch and I regret I ever invested so much time in grooming you to be our future CEO with Laura. You’re a disgrace to this family and – and I thought I’d _never_ have to say this – but I’m actually glad your parents are no longer alive! Especially your mother wouldn’t have survived the shame!”

Derek inhaled sharply; the blow lower than almost everything Peter had said up until that point and Laura made a strangled sound, more tears running down her face.

“You lied to me! You told me this was a _beer-gut_! And I believed you! How could I have been so stupid!” she exclaimed wildly, and before Derek could stop her she had pushed her hand against his belly hard, exerting enough pressure for it to actually be painful.

“You’re not my brother! You’re a fucking abomination! You and that … that bastard inside of you! And I won’t have anything to do with either of you! Don’t even try to contact me! You’ve spat at everything this family stands for! We were supposed to stick together, now that there’s only so few of us left and you’ve betrayed _all of us_!”

“Laura, stop it, you’re _hurting_ me, you’re hurting my b…”

“Good! You hurt me, too, more than you’ll _ever_ know! At least that makes us even!” Laura cried, though she removed the pressure from Derek’s abdomen immediately and stumbled backwards, looking at her hand as if she had touched something disgusting.

“Stay away from us! The both of you! I don’t ever want to see you again!”

The door slammed shut behind her and Derek wondered if it was possible to pass out from the pain of one’s heart breaking.

He had expected a reaction like this, but he would have never thought her capable of actually physically hurting him and that, more than anything, had made it very clear that he had just lost one of the most important people in his life.

“I’d say she’ll come around … but she won’t, so there’s that.”

Peter was still staring at him with disgust but there was also an element of calculation in his gaze, which Derek, in his exhaustion, did not quite get.

“Don’t bother clearing out your office when they release you. You’ll find you’re no longer welcome in the building,” he said, turning to follow Laura.

He had almost reached the door when he turned back towards him, a saccharine smile spreading over his face.

“Oh and one more thing Derek – _congratulations_! What a _blessed_ miracle you and Mr. Stilinski have created here. I’ll be looking forward to seeing the fall-out of _that_ revelation!”

It was perhaps not possible to pass out from a broken heart, but it was definitely possible to throw up from a panic attack, Derek realized as he began to dry-heave, barely aware of the bustling of the nurses that had stormed into his room, finally attracted by all the noise.

He knew his uncle well enough to recognize a threat when he heard it and there was no doubt about it – his uncle was going to tell Stiles.

 

==================

**A Couple of Hours Earlier**

“Holy shit!”

“I honestly can’t believe it!”

“I mean, I was there, I saw it with my own eyes, but … holy _shit_!”

“When did he even … and with whom?”

“Yeah, I mean, who is the _other_ father?”

_Crash_

“ … _fuck_!”

The multiple voices at the headquarters of the ERC abruptly died down as everyone turned around to stare at Stiles, who had dropped a mug of coffee from his jittery hands and was now staring wide-eyed and pale-faced at the muted television, where, below the news-footage of Derek collapsing on the stage, which had been run by every major news channel non-stop for the past couple of hours, the caption now read, “Sources close to _H_ & _A_ confirm that future CEO of the company is seven months pregnant. Official statement is expected in the coming hours.”

“Stiles?” Scott asked, almost jumping forward when, for just a second, it seemed as if Stiles was about to collapse in a dead faint.

“Fuck Scotty, fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Stiles whispered, clearly riding on the edge of a panic attack now.

Scott, well used to Stiles’ panic attacks, grabbed his face firmly, forcing him to count breaths.

“What’s wrong, what made you freak out like that?” he asked when it no longer looked like Stiles’ eyes were about to roll into the back of his head and Stiles, still pale and shaken, looked at his best friend with wide eyes.

“Seven months, Scott. _Seven_! Do you know whom I slept with seven months ago?”

Scott’s eyebrows shot into the air as his mouth fell open, shaking his head slowly, as if that would make it less true.

“ _Holy shit_!” he exclaimed and Stiles let out a wounded sound as he fell back onto the sofa, his head buried between his hands.

“Why is this happening? This cannot be happening, we used protection, how could I have _possibly_ gotten him pregnant? _How_ , period! Hell, he had a non-carrier ID! That shit’s like impossible to fake because of the freaking water-sign!”

“People get misdiagnosed,” Scott said softly, at the same time as Danny whispered, “Condoms break, Stiles,” his voice full of disbelief as he stared between Stiles and his husband, who was carrying a sleeping Nicky who, for the first three months of his in-utero life, had been referred to by Stilesas the ‘McMagical-Condom-Defying-Super-Sperm-Egg Combo’.

“Not helping!” Lydia hissed, her expression torn between compassionate and slightly judgmental as she sat down next to Stiles and rubbed his back.

“I can’t be the father of DerekHale’s baby, I can’t, I … I argued with him on television for _months_ , I … holy shit, I _punched_ him, I … that time in the bathroom when he … and I … in his _stomach_! I can’t be the father, I already punched the baby, who wants the father who punches a baby, you _don’t do shit like that, you_ …”

“Stiles!” Isaac snapped, his voice firm but his expression increasingly excited as he knelt in front of Stiles and grabbed his knees, tightening his grip to stop the other man from having a second panic attack within as many minutes.

“Stiles, stop it, listen to me! Don’t you remember that time in front of the _Jungle_? When you called me to come get you after you went there to forget all about executive assholes but ended up crying to the bartender until he cut you off? You were super drunk when we left but you have to remember almost crashing into Derek on your way out! You gave him the stink-eye for like a minute and then proceeded to rant at me how he was a careless, cheating bastard without feelings and I had to explain to you that you can’t cheat on hook-ups like a million times until you finally threw up and passed out on my new designer couch?”

“You made me pay for the dry-cleaning,” Stiles whispered, his frantically blinking eyes clearing as he stared down at Isaac.

“I remember that! He was just getting in and he …”

“Probably hooked up with like five guys that night! With his looks he could have had ten, easy! Looked pretty tipsy to me, so I’m sure he must have either forgotten about the condom or somehow broken it or something! He wasn’t drunk when he was with you, right?”

“Right,” Stiles said, voice growing more and more relieved as he continued, “We used condoms both times and I was super careful, none of my stuff got anywhere close to his body, unless he raided the trashcan after to commit semen-theft and that shit just happens in movies and with German tennis players in linen closets!”

“Exactly,” Isaac said comfortingly, patting Stiles’ knees again.

“If you know how to use a condom and used it both times then there’s no way you can be the father of that baby, not when Derek had sex with other guys during the same time frame! Whew, dude, that would have sucked so bad!” the curly haired man exclaimed and Stiles laughed almost hysterically, rubbing his hand over his face and accepting the steaming mug of tea that Mrs. Yukimura had held out in front of him.

“No sucking, there was no condom left. I _know_ how to do safe-sex,” Stiles muttered, taking a sip of his tea and almost burning the tip of his tongue when a pained looking Scott nudged against his shoulder and muttered, “TMI man, serious TMI!”

Lydia clucked her tongue, her expression conflicted.

“But maybe …”

“No buts, I know how to use a condom, I still can’t eat bananas because my dad ruined them for me for life! I’m not the father of that child and that’s final!”

Stiles looked determined now and Lydia shrugged, but her expression was full of doubt.  

“I’m not!” Stiles snapped at her, getting up from the couch and grabbing his jacket, suddenly needing some fresh air and fast.

“And now I’m going to go see Melissa to make sure I didn’t kill that baby or _something_ , because that would just be the icing on this fucked up mess of a cake!”

The door slammed shut behind him and for a moment no one in the room said anything.

“Well … hooray for condoms, huh?” Jackson said into the tense silence and Danny added, “And the ones which don’t work,” as he patted his midsection with a rueful grin.

“We should … we should probably issue a statement?” Kira asked hesitantly, her expression still as shell-shocked as it had been when Stiles had almost knocked her over in his haste to get to the fallen man on the stage floor.

Her father nodded, looking just as shocked.

“Yes. A statement. He’ll be facing some serious harassment now and we wouldn’t want to be one of the aggressors, would we?”

Heads were shaken across the room but no one seemed to have any intention of moving, let alone say anything.

It was going to be a long night at the ERC headquarters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The s%& has officially hit the fan and I hope the epically long (told ya in the beginning this is ridiculously long for a fanfic!) wait was worth it! This concludes the second act (I divide them by (I) No One Knows, (II) Derek Knows, (III) Everyone Knows) and as we move forward the characters deal with the fall-out of the revelation, some responding with more anger than others once the tension has ebbed down and everyone has had time to process. 
> 
> Derek is no longer alone, but his bad-decision making days are not quite over yet - with possibly devastating consequences.
> 
> I'll leave it at that for now. 
> 
> Seriously, love you guys and I hope you'll continue to enjoy the rest of the ride!
> 
>  
> 
> Next Update: Wednesday/Thursday  
> Chapter Title: Hospital Visits  
> Chapter Summary: Derek has a couple of different visitors to his bedside that leave him feeling equally loved, guilty, terrified, inadequate, and utterly heartbroken.


	14. Hospital Visits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek has a couple of different visitors to his bedside that leave him feeling equally loved, guilty, terrified, inadequate, and utterly heartbroken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit early, but I'm sure it's already Wednesday somewhere. Enjoy my Lovelies!

The first night after his discovery was brutal.

Derek tossed and turned for hours, feeling trapped in the small hospital room, all of his instincts telling him that he shouldn’t just accept this; that he should go out and fight … all the while knowing that any and all strenuous efforts – and Derek couldn’t quite imagine anything more stressful than fighting Laura, Peter, and Kate at the same time – could lead to certain death for his baby at this point

He was grateful that he had Cora, certain that his little sister would stand at his side even if his older sister wouldn’t, and it made him feel insanely guilty that his actions had indirectly led to her estrangement from their last remaining family members as well.

Laura’s words and the look on her face were haunting him, and Derek quickly shut these thoughts off, not needing to glance at the monitors to know that his heartbeat had already quickened, possibly pumping copious amounts of cortisol into his bloodstream and stunting his baby’s growth even further.

When Melissa paid him a visit around noon the next day she clucked her tongue at his red-rimmed, sleep-deprived eyes and the tension in his jaw, briefly stroking across his hair in compassion before she explained the day’s procedures to him.

As he fought not to lean into her touch Derek once again realized that he hadn’t missed his mother quite that much in a very long time, feeling almost ashamed at how heartbroken he felt when Melissa pulled away.

Cora had texted him that she would come by in the afternoon and Derek was both looking forward to and dreading her company, beyond relieved that he could finally share his burden with his sister, yet at the same time aware that he had deeply hurt Cora by not trusting her with this.

His little sister, however, seemed to be hell-bent on making sure he wasn’t going to get anymore worked up than he had to and when she showed up with huge circles under her eyes, wild, unkempt hair, and the biggest teddy-bear Derek had ever seen in his life he knew for certain that – no matter what was going to happen – he’d at least have his little sister.

“So I didn’t’ really know what to get people who are in the hospital because they hid their pregnancy for 27 weeks and basically ran their body into the ground to the point of fainting in front of half of New York, but a big teddy bear seemed appropriate,” she informed him as she propped the bear up against the wall and Derek just stared at her, wondering how he could even possibly put into words how much he loved her in that moment.

“Are you going to cry? Is it hormones? That’s ok, I brought tissues,” Cora said when she turned around and noticed his expression, her own expression shattering when Derek went and did just that, the fear that had gripped him in a chokehold ever since Melissa had said the word _stillbirth_ bubbling out of him without a chance of holding it back.

It suddenly occurred to him that Cora had never really seen him cry, not since the first three nights after the fire, when she had still been too caught up in her own terror to consciously notice the family she had left but Cora seemed to take it all in stride when she unceremoniously climbed onto the bed and wrapped her arms around him.

“Stupid hormones, huh?” she observed when Derek lifted his head from her shoulder for air and he chuckled, wiping at his eyes with shaking hands.

Cora handed him a tissue without comment, wrinkling her nose when he blew his own but smiling nevertheless.

Derek leaned back against the cushions, easing up on the pressure on his back and Cora moved her legs into a cross-legged position, her arms lightly resting on her thighs as she stared at her brother’s stomach.

“So I know you already have a built-in roommate and all right now, but do you think you can tolerate another one?” she asked, searching his eyes for permission before she lightly stroked his belly and Derek nodded quickly, relieved that she was offering and that he didn’t have to ask.

“You can stay as long as you want,” he said earnestly and Cora chuckled without humor.

“I already moved in actually, I wasn’t going to stay another second at Laura’s. I don’t think I’ve ever fought like that with anyone before, it was … well, not something I’m going to tell you when I’ve been instructed to contribute to your production of happy-hormones and not stress-hormones, but let it suffice to say that it was _bad_. There might have been threats of violence,” she muttered, resting her other hand on his belly as well.

“Man, I wish you’d told me Derek! I know you didn’t find out until a couple of weeks ago, but I feel like such an idiot right now! I mean here I was, watching you throw up for days and instead of figuring out that you were having morning sickness and dragging you to a doctor I just … gave you ginger tea!”

“It really helped though and you couldn’t have known. I didn’t,” Derek tried and Cora groaned.

“I should have seen this! All of it! The morning sickness, you were always so tired at the beginning of the year, all those headaches, heck, your belly … I just didn’t want to comment on that, you know? You’ve always been so ridiculous proud of that six-pack and I just …”

“I know,” Derek said softly and Cora shook her head in disbelief.

“To have to shoulder this alone for so long, when Laura and Peter kept dragging you into these stupid debates, I mean, how have you not gone insane yet?” she mused, looking at him in concern and Derek shrugged, unsure what to say.

“It wasn’t … I didn’t … I trust you. You know that, right? I just didn’t want to … I wanted to … I wanted to protect you,” he finally got out, wondering when he had last sounded like such a bumbling idiot.

Cora huffed angrily.

“You’re such an insufferable _martyr_ sometimes! Here you are, the one who actually needs the protection and instead of focusing on the fact that you’re going to be a daddy you spend way too much time being a big brother to an _adult_ who can make her own decisions and doesn’t need Uncle _Peter_ telling her what to do! I know you love me, but I’m really not your priority right now, you know that, right?”

She sighed, staring at him intently.

“Derek … I need you to know that I love you. Ever since I opened up that jacket I’ve been wondering if I haven’t said it enough in the past 16 years! I know I’m not supposed to rile you up but seriously, _why_ didn’t you trust me with this? I believe you when you say you wanted to protect me but that can’t be the only reason, so please tell me, what did I do wrong?”

Derek stared back unhappily, feeling heartbroken that she was placing the blame for his lack of courage on herself.

“I knew what was going to happen, Cora. And I wanted to protect you from that. This is not your fault, it’s mine, and you shouldn’t be the one having to suffer from it.”

“Bullshit, Derek!”

Cora groaned, looking at him like she had lost all faith in his sanity.

“First of all, you were _misdiagnosed_ and were never properly educated about carrier safe-sex, alright? Secondly, I’m assuming you _thought_ you were trying to have safe sex with whomever is responsible for this, because I really can’t see you sleeping with someone without protection, so if anything this was a mistake that could have happened to _anyone_! Thirdly, you’re my brother, ok? If you’re hurting, I’m hurting, no power in the universe could have made you prevent that from happening!”

She looked at his belly, then back at him, her expression torn between curiosity and frustration.

“Just so you know, I’m taking this ‘don’t stress the pregnant brother’-mandate very seriously, and that’s why I’m not going to ask you the obvious question that I think I know the answer to already. But that will probably come up sooner rather than later and I’ll be understanding if you don’t want to tell me, but I really wish you will.”

She held her hands up when Derek flinched, shaking her head quickly.

“No stress, I figure if this wasn’t a stressful topic you would have told me who it was yesterday. So we’re not going to talk about it just now. No stress. At least not for now.”

She sighed, bending over until she was basically on eye-level with his belly.

“Hey Baby! Just so you know, your daddy is a self-sacrificing idiot! He’s going to jump in front of a train for you, but while most daddies might do that while you’re actually on the track and in harm’s way, he’d probably do it as a precaution while you’re still ten feet away. It’s a bad habit of his and I’ll need your help to make him break it, we got a deal?” she muttered, looking up at him with a somewhat chagrined expression.

“Papa,” Derek said quietly and Cora inhaled sharply, her fingers twitching on his abdomen.

“Like our Papa?” she whispered and when Derek nodded she bent her head down, her hair falling over her face.

Derek grasped her hand, holding it tightly, and it was in that moment that Erica marched inside the hospital room, her cheeks glowing with anger.

She was obviously trying to keep her emotions in check but Derek knew her well enough to know that if she hadn’t been in a hospital right now she would have been yelling bloody murder.

“Hey,” he said and Erica smiled.

Tried to, at least, the attempt foiled by the angry twitching of her entire face.

“Guess who I ran into when I went to grab your stuff from the office!” she exclaimed and both Hale siblings looked at her in alarm.

“Laura? Kate? Peter?” Cora asked quickly and Erica nodded grimly.

“Oh yeah – the snakehead of the unholy trinity! I had a _very_ interesting conversation with your uncle earlier. Well, I wouldn’t go so far as to call it interesting, creepy-ass-weird would be more appropriate! In any case, apparently it was the most important part of my job to keep you from getting knocked up or something? I have no freaking clue how I was supposed to do that, but I obviously failed at it, so, having failed to stop the bun from getting shoved in the oven so to speak, I, the one who allowed the bat to fly into the cave, was informed that since you’re in the family way now, I am no longer welcome at the Hale _family_ establishment and was instructed to pack my bags. As well as, and this was probably my favorite part of the entire clusterfuck of a conversation, having your uncle advise me that I should just as well go and join you in the pudding club, since I’m apparently so fond of making sure people can eat for two these days!”

She took a deep breath, shrugging when Derek gaped at her.

“How were you even supposed to do that? Throw yourself between him and every person he had sex with? Strap him into a chastity belt? Slip him sleeping pills? Don’t take it personally, Uncle Peter is batshit crazy,” Cora sighed, a grim smile on her face when Erica nodded enthusiastically.

Derek still continued to gape at her and finally Erica shook her head with a grimace.

“Don’t look at me like that, I have no freaking clue either, all I know is that your uncle is completely and utterly deranged and evil, knows way too many colloquialism for pregnancy, and somehow thought that the vacancy of your uterus was in any way my responsibility, even though I didn’t even know you had one! And because of my failure I guess you and me are both going to go find a job now. Maybe I’ll become a seer or something, since that was apparently part of my job-description without me knowing it!”

Derek sighed, looking down at his belly.

“I don’t think anyone is going to hire me right now, if I show up looking like I swallowed a basketball and all they can remember is me speaking out against carrier-rights on television,” he said and Erica laughed humorlessly, tugging at her hair in obvious frustration.

“Yeah well, pretty sure the establishments I would like to apply to won’t look too kindly at my resume either … though the fact that I was fired without warning might actually convince them that I’m a good person and not like your crazy uncle.”

“If you need a good recommendation I could …”

Erica shook her head, sighing loudly.

“I love you Derek, but based on my twitter dash I think a recommendation from you really wouldn’t help me much at the moment. God, I hate this! All of it! I should have dragged you to a doctor two days ago, then nothing would have happened!”

She placed one hand next to Cora’s, a soft smile on her face when the baby nudged against the contact.

"How _is_ the little stowaway though? Is it doing ok? Melissa wouldn’t tell me for confidentiality reasons, she only said I’d been right to suggest you go to a doctor right after the debate. It _is_ ok, right?”

Cora was staring between Erica and Derek with a look growing agitation, her palms pressing a little tighter against his belly.

“What do you mean, is the baby ok? Of course it’s ok! It’s kicking, it’s still in the oven; it’s fine! Right?”

Derek stared down at their hands, unable to meet either of their eyes as he contemplated his answer.

“Derek?”

Cora hadn’t sounded so small in many, many years and it almost broke Derek’s heart when he looked up and saw the fear, pain, and resignation in her eyes, as if she had already accepted that she was going to lose another family member.

It was bad enough that he had been thinking the word _stillborn_ on repeat ever since his talk with Melissa, he really didn’t think it was necessary to cause his sister pain like that when the odds were still so uncertain and could shift at any moment.

“It’s fine,” he heard himself say, feeling the irony of the situation weighing heavily on his shoulders.

It hadn’t even been five minutes since Cora had demanded that he stop being a martyr and protect her from heartbreak, but as far as he was concerned Cora, who had always been the youngest in their family unit, had never quite experienced what it was like to feel protective of someone smaller and he didn’t want her to have to experience now, when there was such a high chance that something bad was going to happen.

When he looked into her terrified eyes he decided that he actually hadn’t promised her anything and so he continued, hoping his voice wouldn’t betray him.

“The heartbeat is strong and all limbs are present and accounted for, so I guess that means it’s fine. Melissa says I might even get to see it later today, they’re going to do a bunch of tests that I should have gotten done months ago,” he continued, voice faltering just a little at the end and Cora exhaled loudly, while Erica let out a watery sigh.

“Thank god, I would have never forgiven myself for not seeing this earlier otherwise! I know you think we shouldn’t have noticed, but to be honest with you Derek, you and your health were basically our only conversation topic for the past couple of weeks. We came up with so many scenarios, but pregnancy was never even an option.”

“My ID would suggest it wasn’t,” Derek said darkly and Cora frowned.

“About that. Are you going to sue Jennifer? You should, you know, she misdiagnosed you and you could have seriously harmed your baby if you had run around even longer without knowing. It’s her screw-up; she needs to be held accountable for it! The secret is out anyways, so …”

“I’m sure Allison can help you out there. I mean, she still works at _Hale & Argent, _but I think that’s only because Chris almost begged her to stay. She’s super pissed at them though … her relationship with Scott was failing and I’m pretty sure she’s been seeing Isaac for the past two weeks so it’s not like they destroyed her eternal chance for happiness, but it shouldn’t have ended the way it did, not after how much they meant to each other once. She blames them for pushing her to hurt the person who was most important to her for so long. You should talk to her, she’ll probably even do it for free.”

“I’ll call her I guess. It’s probably not going to accomplish anything but …”

“Even if it doesn’t, Jennifer needs to answer for this! Stop letting them treat you like you’re everyone’s punching bag, for heaven’s sake, you’re not a martyr, you’re a father! Start acting like one!”

Cora clapped her hands over her mouth, her eyes glistening when Derek let out a pained whine and looked away, his hands trembling on his belly.

Some kind of father he was … the kind that played Russian Roulette with his baby’s health, to use Erica’s words.

As if she had read his mind Cora gently nudged against his shoulder, looking a little guilty.

“Hey! You got off to a rocky start but if your baby loves you half as much as I can tell you love the little munchkin already, then you’ll be loved to the moon and back, possibly beyond. We’ll figure this out Derek, you, me, Erica, and Boyd. We’ll help. It’ll be fine. You have to believe that, alright?”

With his sister and his friend at his side Derek found he almost could.

 

===================

 

When Derek woke up the next morning Cora, who had fallen asleep against his side at some point the evening before, having given in to exhaustion after a night of no sleep, was gone and for a moment Derek felt disoriented, certain that someone else was in the room.

However, the pregnancy had heightened his sense of smell significantly and so it didn’t take him long to identify the distinctive cologne that was coming from a source close to him.

His hands shot to his belly instinctively, eyes slamming open as he struggled to sit and Peter snorted, rolling his eyes and shaking his head at him.

“Oh don’t get your panties in a twist dear nephew, I’m not here to cut your abomination out of that impressive gut of yours! I’m impressed no one caught on to that for so long by the way, how ever did you manage to hide all that mass?” he asked sounding detachedly amused and Derek pulled his blanket up to his chest, feeling a little hurt and a whole lot protective of his baby, not trusting his uncle even a millimeter.

“I’m going to call the nurse!” he said warningly and Peter held up his hands, once more rolling his eyes.

“No need for that, I’ll be quick, there’s only one thing left to discuss anyways,” Peter said jovially and Derek narrowed his eyes, stance still hunched as he tried to shield as much as possible of his midsection.

“Easy momma-bear, don’t strain something. I’m actually here because … well … you see … we kind of have to talk about your ‘condition’.”

“There is literally nothing I have to say to you about my condition!” Derek snapped coldly and Peter sighed loudly, clearly getting impatient.

“And there is literally nothing I will ever want to hear about it, I assure you. That’s not what I meant though, what I’m talking about is your blood condition. You remember that one? The one you’ve been getting shots for since you were diagnosed at 13?”

Derek nodded slowly, not sure what his uncle was hinting towards.

Peter smirked.

“I’ll lay it out for you in a way you’ll understand, let’s see if you make the connection before I actually have to say it. When you were 13 Dr. Blake diagnosed you as a non-carrier, apparently a glaring oversight on her part, given that we can clearly see you actually do have a functioning uterus. Instead of diagnosing you as a carrier, like she should have, Dr. Blake diagnosed you with a semi-rare blood disorder, easily managed with a monthly shot that has been administered to you ever since. And ever since you started being sexually active with both men _and_ women, which, I must say, I had honestly hoped wouldn’t happen, because that would have saved all of us this disgusting mess, your uterus has remained decidedly childfree, even though you were, again, sorry for being frank here, occasionally a bit sloppy about the condoms. Would you like to take a wild guess as to how we, and by that I mean Dr. Blake and – I’m sure this will come as no surprise to you – I, the only two people who knew about this before Mr. Stilinski’s dick entered the equation, managed to keep you from getting knocked up all these years?”

He looked at him expectantly and Derek blamed his tiredness when it didn’t automatically connect in his mind.

When it did, however, he felt like the world had stopped spinning around him.

“The shots … they were … and I didn’t … the night of the reception I … fuck you Peter! _Fuck you!_ ” Derek exclaimed, voice rising with every word when everything suddenly came together.

“Nope Derek, you were the one who got fucked, not me, and the evidence is clear to see!” Peter hissed back, shooting out of his chair and stalking over to the bed, pushing Derek’s hands away easily and pressing both of his against the younger man’s belly, using enough force to make him gasp in pain.

“Not a single word Derek, you will _not_ like what’ll happen!” Peter whispered, an almost maniacal glint in his eye and Derek’s breath caught in his throat, ready to throw Peter off of him when his uncle stepped back, expression more disgusted than anything else.

“As I said, I’m not here to hurt your child, it _is_ family after all, as much as I despise it already. But I will not hesitate to take action if you ever mention any of this to anyone, do you understand me? You had to know this because I wasn’t about to have you expose the fraud in your records by asking for your shot and having everyone and their mother realize that your blood is actually completely healthy and that, your bloodwork will prove, you have actually been on birth control for years. So far, this was never registered in your medical records because dear Jennifer has been in charge of them, so we wouldn’t want that to be discovered, would we?”

He grinned, making Derek feel almost physically ill.

“You know the truth now so I guess you won’t mind if dearest Erica will no longer have a shot-kit delivered to her, after all, who knows what these hormone injections could have done to your dear little baby. Granted, research has mostly disproven the theory that birth-control taken during pregnancy could harm those _tiny_ little beings, but we wouldn’t want to take any risk now, would we?”

It was only the IV still attached to his arm that prevented Derek from shooting out of the bed and slamming his uncle against the wall, the implication behind his carefully chosen words perfectly clear.

“You’re a monster!” he hissed, voice brimming with barely controlled fury.

Peter chuckled.

“Well, you’re a freak of nature, so I guess it runs in the family. Oh, that actually does bring me to a second thing I wanted to discuss with you. Our family. I’m sure you and dear Cora have already made plans regarding your shares of the company, now that your sister resigned in such spectacular fashion and we had to fire you for not abiding by our rules and hiding a pregnancy. Undoubtedly you expect me to get the paper-work ready for buying the two of you out of the company, after all, dear Talia made sure you’d inherit a sizeable sum of the family fortune in her will, but … well … this is a little awkward, but … you’re actually not getting anything. Cora … yes, unfortunately. You … not so much.”

He shrugged, smile seeming almost sheepish, had it not been for the cold glint in his eyes.

“Sorry.”

Derek’s eyes widened.

He hadn’t even thought along these lines yet, mind still too busy with trying to come to terms with his loss of a sister and the fact that his baby was at risk, and he stared at Peter, flabbergasted.

“What are you talking about?” he snapped and Peter held up his hands defensively, a cold grin spreading over his face.

“You have to see things from my perspective, Derek. You tested positive as a carrier two weeks before I had a meeting with a notary to be informed of everything in Talia’s will and how it applied to you three, my dearest charges. It turns out there was a very interesting passage in her will, a passage that made it crispy clear that all three of you were only going to come into your inheritance and the company shares if you abided by the morals and ethics _Hale_ & _Argent_ was built upon. My dear sister was so principled, you can only applaud her for thinking of this, but it was very important to her that her children follow in her ideological footsteps and well, when you were diagnosed as a carrier I was concerned about your share, given how much at risk you were of losing everything. So my dear friend Kali, who I’m sure you remember has been our notary for years, was very willing to accommodate me and – lo and behold – we managed to add in a clause that specifically stated that the only violation of this clause would in fact be the actual conception and birth of a carrier-baby, not the simple fact that you were diagnosed as one. This was for your protection, Derek, so don’t accuse me of not trying, but I’m sad to say you broke that clause.”

Peter took a step back when Derek jumped out of the bed, not even caring about the painful tug as the IV ripped loose.

He stalked towards his uncle, his expression furious.

“You _forged_ Mom’s will? This is illegal! You won’t get away with this, this …”

“Will never be proven, because the only three people who ever saw the will are your mother, Kali, and myself. Of course you could take us to court, it would be your word against mine and maybe, just maybe, people would be on your side. Only you won’t take us to court. Want to know why?”

He glared at his nephew, taking a step forward and getting right into his private space, almost in touching distance.

“The city is a dangerous place. A _very_ dangerous place, in fact, and a poor, unfortunate soul named Lucas found that out the hard way almost ten years ago … and that’s just one of the many things that can go wrong here on a daily basis. Someone could corner you at gun-point on your way home, the formula for your precious baby could be accidentally contaminated, the air vents in your apartment could be manipulated … there are literally a thousand dangers one has to be aware of while living here, especially if one makes the wrong enemies … like poor Lucas did.”

Derek could literally feel his face go ashen as he remembered the story Deucalion had told him during the cursed luncheon, the terror he had felt then at the idea of a man like this possibly finding out about his condition.

A man, who was so close to his uncle.

“You wouldn’t!” he whispered, tone flat in his sudden terror, and Peter grinned.

“Probably not! But do you really want to try me? I have a lot to lose here; tampering with medical records, tampering with a will ... I don’t know about you, but serving time for one’s convictions sounds incredibly unnecessary and _tedious_ , don’t you think so?”

Derek stared at him, feeling furious, helpless, and terrified for his baby, certain that even if his uncle wouldn’t put a finger on him, Deucalion would not have these scruples.

“I’ll answer for you. You don’t want to try me! Instead you’ll keep silent, accept your losses, tug your tail between your legs and run, never to be seen or heard from at the company again. I imagine it will be a hard transition, but one that you’d probably enjoy making withyour baby alive and well, am I correct?”

“Right,” Derek whispered, feeling bile rise in his throat when Peter beamed.

“Good boy!” he grinned, patting Derek’s belly almost gently and making the younger man hiss in alarm as he pulled back, putting a foot between himself and his uncle, who just looked more amused.

“I’m going to walk out of this room now, and I think it’ll be in our best mutual interest if we never see each other again, wouldn’t you agree? You know, I feel that, at the end of the day, I really am the true victim here; I tried everything in my power to prevent this from happening, to make sure you had the future you deserved by birth, even though you were born a nasty little carrier, but you were an ungrateful little pervert and went and thought with your dick, meaning that now you are carrying the consequences in the most literal way!”

He tapped against his nose briefly, smirking at Derek once again.

“One more thing, my friends in legal tell me your sister contacted Allison Argent about possibly suing Dr. Blake for misdiagnosing you? A word of advice, my dear, dear nephew; don’t. You reallywon’t like what _that one_ might do if she feels cornered! Trust me on this one and don’t ask any questions!”

He walked towards the door, turning around once more with a dangerous smile that reminded Derek of a shark.

“Oh! Before I forget. I saw Mr. Stilinski in the lobby as I went up here. He looked very concerned, like the perfect picture of a nervous father to be. I would have offered my sympathies but he had his friend the overgrown puppy with him and I think that one was about ready to bite me, so I stayed away. You really should tell him soon, Derek, it’s not my place to do so after all … and I’m sure he’ll be _delighted_!”

When he was gone Derek just stared at the door, his head feeling like a heavy-cotton blanket.

As the sting of his bleeding hand became more prominent he was startled out of his stupor, lifting up his shaking hand to inspect the damage.

It wasn’t bad, but there was definitely some blood and he looked around, moving almost in a trance as he grabbed a tissue and began wiping the blood off, feeling like he wanted to scream as his mind replayed the conversation he had just had with his uncle, underlined with statements from the articles he had googled about the poor carrier who had paid such a terrible price for becoming pregnant by Deucalion.

There hadn’t been pictures but the descriptions had been very graphic and Derek could imagine himself in that alley all too well, lying in the dirt and bleeding out, his tiny baby completely chanceless as it died inside of him.

There was no way in hell he was going to let that happen to him, that was the one thing Derek knew for certain right now.

Before he could get truly worked up, however, there was another knock on the door and he froze, mind jumping to the worst-case scenario possible and he was almost expecting Deucalion to walk through the door, knife raised and a maniacal glint in his eye.

“Yes?” he croaked, taking another step back and the door opened to reveal a man in his mid to late fifties, wearing a Sheriff’s uniform and looking a mixture of skeptical, worried, and sympathetic.

“Mr. Hale, I’m sorry for disturbing you. I don’t know if you remember me, I’m Sheriff John Stilinski and I was present when Deputy Parrish interviewed you after that unfortunate incident in Beacon Hills. I was in town to see my son at the debate in Central Park and I’m also friendly with Dr. McCall, who’s been telling me there’s been quite the commotion around here ever since you were admitted. This is technically not my jurisdiction, but having someone stand around and glare menacingly with a badge has never hurt anyone, so I figured I’d just hang around for a bit, make sure there is nothing going on here we need to be concerned about. How are you feeling today?”

Derek stared, completely taken aback.

It was the second time that he was meeting his child’s grandfather, the only grandparent it would ever know, and once again he was making a fool out of himself by gaping like a fish, but the man’s presence was putting him on edge, as he was not at all sure what to expect from Stiles’ father.

“I can go if you’re feeling tired, I just thought …”

“No, no, wait, it’s fine, I appreciate you checking up on me. Doctor McCall is right, there’s been some commotion here but nothing I and my sister Cora couldn’t have handled. I’m fine, thank you for asking, you didn’t have to.”

Sheriff Stilisinski’s gaze dropped to his hand, his eyes narrowing when he noticed the specks of blood.

“Did something happen?” he asked, hand already reaching for his phone and Derek shook his head quickly, sitting down on the bed and feeling very grateful that he had changed into sweatpants and a shirt the other day.

“No, I just got up too quickly and pulled the IV. I’m sure they’ll fix that in no time,” he said, telling himself not to think about the reason he had stood up like that in the first place and Sheriff Stilinski frowned, clearly seeing something in his face he didn’t like.

“I couldn’t help but notice your uncle leaving here just a few minutes ago. Did he perhaps have something to do with your … uhm … _accident_? Forgive me for asking but based on your family’s politics I feel that I have to. If he did, now would be a really good time to tell someone.”

Once again Derek felt like he was going to scream.

He wanted nothing more than to expose his uncle, to see him behind bars if only to make sure he would never be able to hurt his baby, but the thought of him being able to get to Derek before the police could arrest him, to send a message to Deucalion to do something that Derek didn’t even want to imagine was … it wasn’t worth it.

Not by a long shot.

Derek shook his head, hoping that the Sheriff would let it go.

“No, this was just me being clumsy, but thank you for asking, I appreciate the concern.”

“If you’re certain Mr. Hale,” the Sheriff said, his tone suggesting he was anything but convinced.

“Is there something else I can do for you?” Derek asked when the pause stretched into awkward territory, suddenly desperate for the man to be gone, since he wasn’t quite sure how much longer he could keep his internal freak-out caused by his uncle’s threats under control.

The Sheriff scratched his ear, looking very apologetic now.

“Actually, there is. And you might think none of what I’m going to say is my place, but I’m afraid we’ll have to disagree on that one. Here’s the thing. My son’s been talking about you for months now and quite frankly, you’ve caused him and his best friends a lot of grief, especially poor Danny, who, you might not be aware, used to be my son’s boyfriend, so the child that got him fired could as well be my grandson today. Despite all of this, however, I’ve heard them talk down at the ERC headquarters and – I’m sure this will come as a surprise to you, given your opinion of them – the general consensus there is that they want to do everything in their power to help you. I assume you just lost your job over this and essentially became the poster child for what Stiles and his friends have been advocating for all along?”

Derek nodded, not sure where the older man was going with this and John Stilinski sighed, muttering something under his breath that Derek didn’t quite get.

“Figured as much. Listen son, I seriously don’t understand how a _carrier_ could have spent so much time fighting against his own rights on national television, I really, honestly don’t, and I’m highly uncomfortable with my son spending time with a person I can’t quite figure out. That being said, I know the ERC is going to reach out to you to offer you all the help you could possibly need and I know without a doubt that my son, regardless of the bad blood between the two of you, is going to be on the forefront of the Derek Hale Rescue Party if you let him. So I am here to ask you, as politely as I possibly can without waving my gun, to try and figure out if you can actually treat my son with the respect he deserves. He’s a good man, Derek, he wants to do the right thing, and you, son, need all the help you can possibly get right now, because you’re in for a hell ride as soon as you leave this hospital, I hope that has been made clear to you.”

He sighed, nodding towards the television.

“There have been twenty reported hate-crimes against carriers in the past twenty four hours alone, five on them against men who are expecting. Nobody was hurt seriously, but please understand that people are currently feeling betrayed, the carriers for having you deny them, the hateful non-carriers for you having had them believe you were one of them. It’s going to be dangerous out there for you for a while and my son and his friends are going to be right in the middle of that danger. For _you_. And your _baby_. And I need you to be appreciative of this, because I worry about my kid associating with you and I am not sure quite yet that you deserve it.”

He fixed Derek with a serious glare, making the other man feel guiltier than ever about his secrecy and carelessness.

“My son would be mortified if he knew I’d said all of this, he thinks I’m here to brief you on how to protect yourself once you get out of the hospital, but you’ll understand when you see that baby of yours for the first time. They become your world and you’d do everything you can to make sure that world stays intact. My son can look out for himself but I’d … appreciate it if more people than just me reminded him that it’s ok to accept help once in a while.”

He paused, his glare softening to compassion.

“In case I wasn’t subtle enough just now, the same goes for you, Derek.”

Derek nodded, feeling overwhelmed by this emotional whiplash situation.

He got where the Sheriff was coming from and as he looked into John Stilinski’s still skeptical, but earnest eyes, he silently promised the baby that he’d do everything in his power so that he or she would get to know this man, no matter how things with Stiles would turn out.

He felt lucky that his baby would have the Sheriff as a grandfather, a grandfather who had obviously raised its _father_ to understand how to be a good dad, Derek really couldn’t imagine it otherwise, and he felt relieved, knowing that at least someone in his baby’s family wouldn’t be fucked up beyond repair.

That someone would be able to step in when he inevitably screwed everything up.

“Sir, I …”

There were so many truths threatening to spill from his tongue that it was almost choking him to speak, and Derek decided to go with the one that was the least explosive.

“I’ve never been against carrier rights. Not personally. I just …”

“You were made a victim, as well,” the Sheriff finished his sentence, sighing softly.

“I’m not surprised, son. I am damn good at my job, you know, I can read people very well and I never believed you were actually convinced of what you were saying in all these debates. Granted, I was as shocked as everyone to learn you were _pregnant_ , but I could tell something wasn’t quite right with you the moment they first dragged you on _Larry King_ after that horrid Argent woman made a fool out of herself and, if my son is to be believed, inspired about a hundred thousand lemon memes, whatever that means.”

He smiled, and Derek suddenly wondered if the man was even aware he’d switched to his first name, that he’d called him son at least three times now.

It made the ache in his chest grow exponentially worse and when he realized his eyes were watering he felt utterly humiliated.

Sheriff Stilinski cleared his throat, looking very uncomfortable.

“I’ll … well, there’s nothing here left for me to do so I’ll just let you get some rest. Keep your head up son, this is going to get a whole lot worse for a while, but a couple of weeks from now it’ll also get a lot better. Trust me on this.”

He turned towards the door, then paused, expression suddenly sheepish.

“Oh, one more thing, my son wants to talk to you. As I said, he thinks I briefed you on security issues, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell him I essentially told you boys to play nice, because he hates it when I mother-hen him. Which I get, honestly, he’s 25, he’s a grown man, but even grown men make stupid choices sometimes and well, you never quite stop being a parent, even if those choices hurt more and more the older they get.”

Derek’s mind came to a screeching halt, his mouth dropping open as he realized the implications of the Sheriff’s statement.

“Stiles? He’s here?”

The Sheriff’s eyes narrowed and Derek cursed himself, wondering what he had just given away and flinching when the Sheriff’s tone switched from warm to suspicious.

“Yes. Is that a problem? Should I tell him to go?”

“No! No, I’m sorry, I just … I was surprised. No, it’s not a problem, he can come in.”

“If you’re certain,” the Sheriff replied, opening the door wide as he stepped outside and Derek took a deep breath, inspecting the tear in his hand with more interest than was necessary when light footsteps signaled the entrance of the next Stilinski, the sound of the closing door ringing louder in his ears than it probably had been.

The silence that followed was even louder, a buzzing in Derek’s ears as he wondered if Stiles already knew; if his uncle had followed through with his threat and told the man he was the baby’s father.

The moment of truth had finally arrived – and Derek wasn’t ready for it by.

Not by a long-shot.

 

================

“Be nice!”

Stiles’ father clapped his shoulder firmly; his trademark tone of parental authority softened by the worry in his eyes and Stiles took a deep breath.

The last time he had felt this anxious when stepping inside a hospital room had been when he had visited his mother after her brain surgery; anxiously wondering why his father had been sitting outside the room with his face hidden behind his hands, when getting the tumor out of his mother’s head had been supposed to be a good thing.

Stiles had been terrified then, and the news that the surgery had been unsuccessful, that parts of the tumor had been inoperable and there was no hope left, had changed his world forever.

As he took in Derek’s form on the bed, the trembling, upturned hands he was resting on his knees and the way in which his belly was emphasized by his hunched-over position, Stiles wasn’t quite sure whether or not to feel appalled at himself for praying that this wouldn’t turn out to be another life-changing hospital visit.

He had laid awake all night coming home from the hospital two days ago, partly relieved for being reassured that pushing Derek had not harmed the baby, a potential guilt he didn’t even know how anyone could have coped with, and partly sick with nerves, calculating dates, odds, and wondering if the universe could really be that much of a sadist.

Lydia had put his self-loathing into words the next day, her simple, “If I were you, I wouldn’t quite advertise to Cora that you and Isaac were so ready to slut-shame her brother. Or Erica for that matter,” enough to make Stiles feel even guiltier for the way he had stormed out of the ERC headquarters the night before.

“You know we didn’t mean it that way, right?” he had muttered into his coffee, too ashamed to face her, and Lydia had glared at him, carefully manicured nails clicking on the counter and drilling holes into his nervous system.

“Oh, so when Isaac told you Derek probably hooked up with five or ten guys that night you weren’t jumping onto the all-carriers-are-sluts bandwagon? Or do you mean you didn’t completely reduce him to his looks when you agreed that, carrier or not, a guy like Derek could just about get anyone into bed?”

“You know full well neither Isaac or I meant it that way! I was convinced he slept with a bunch of people that night months ago and I didn’t even know he was a carrier, so I couldn’t have possibly assumed that had anything to do with it! It was an unfortunate coincidence that his behavior equals anti-carrier-stereotypes, that’s all. And I wasn’t slut-shaming him, heck, I’m all for getting as many people into your bed as possible, I … I’m digging my hole deeper, am I?”

“To China, essentially,” Lydia had said curtly, glaring at him when Stiles had protested, “You know, that’s actually not quite correct geographically,” under his breath.

She had sighed then, reaching over the table and grasping his hands tightly, her expression annoyed and concerned at the same time.

“You’re a smart man, Stiles, I know you are, so I can’t believe you’re that much in denial right now! You must realize that the chances you _are_ in fact the father of that baby are very high, don’t you?”

Stiles hadn’t been quite sure what his face had given away, then, but it had prompted Lydia to set her coffee cup down, walk over to his side of the table and wrap her arms around him without saying a word.

Stiles had inhaled her strawberry shampoo, the familiar scent soothing as he had tried to calm himself.

Derek had more or less told him it had been a while that night, and Stiles had no reason to doubt him, which meant that, given how far along he was, the child had to have been conceived in the first half of January.

He had slept with Derek at the end of the first week, which gave him about a seven-day window in which Derek could have had sex with another man and those weren’t odds that Stiles was able to explain away, as much as he wanted to.

He wasn’t an idiot – he knew that, even if Derek _had_ had sex with a different man each night during that second week of January, there was still a 15 percent chance it was his baby. 50 percent, more likely, since Stiles was well aware that in the years before their hook-up Derek had basically been celibate, much to Cora’s concern.

As much as he trusted his own skills he somehow doubted having sex with him had reminded Derek of the carnal joys so much that he had gone to seek it every night since.

He also knew Derek had had sex at least one more time during that week, his intentions had been clear in front of that club, which was known as hook-up central after all, and Stiles was resolutely stifling the little sarcastic voice in his head that kept asking him _But did he? Did he really? How would you know, did you stick around to find out if anyone else **stuck** it to him?_

So yes, 50/50, probably a bit more than 50/50, and the implications of it were making him feel sick.

Not because of the child, never because of the child, he wasn’t that much of a heartless douchebag, but because of Derek.

Derek, whom he had treated horribly in the aftermath of their one-night stand and whom he had tried to pick apart on national television ever since.

Granted, Derek had given as well as he had gotten for the most part, but it wasn’t like Stiles hadn’t noticed him struggle.

Like he couldn’t remember that time in the subway, when Derek had looked so ill; like he couldn’t remember the lost expression on his face during their last debate; the wooden way in which he had fumbled through his arguments like he didn’t even believe them himself.

Stiles had tried to make him crack, had wanted to expose him as a fraud, highlighting that not even _Hale_ & _Argent_ truly believed in what they were saying, that all of it was simply too ludicrous.

Most of all, he had waited for Derek to make the first move, to finally admit that he was in the wrong when Stiles had been so convinced he had been right.

He still did, actually, at least when it came to carrier-rights, but he didn’t need to talk to Erica to realize that, in hindsight, he had never given Derek a real chance to explain to begin with, his own family history and the pain and grief he had witnessed growing up having shaped his character too much to react any differently.

And yet, here they were, in the hospital, with him standing in the middle of a room staring like an idiot and speechless and a pregnant man sitting on the bed looking like he wanted to be everywhere but here, like he had completely given up.

Derek had looked unhappy for months, but Stiles had never seen him look so raw as he did in that moment.

There were tension lines around his mouth that gave him an almost bitter look and Stiles wondered if he had been the one who had put them there, the thought no longer as gratifying as it had been just days earlier.

Children deserved parents who loved each other, and Stiles had no idea how he and Derek were supposed to pull that off, not even for the sake of the child.

Not after everything that had happened.

He didn’t want to have to explain to his child why its fathers hated each other so much one day, and the irony of his emotions were not lost on him, wondering for the first time who the real coward had been this entire time as he took a hesitant step forward, prompting Derek to look up at him, his hands coming to rest on his belly automatically.

Now that he knew the man was pregnant Stiles was almost transfixed by the gesture, having never expected a man who had spewed carrier-phobic arguments on national television to look so protective, so incredibly in love with his little baby.

It was just another item on his long list of things he had completely miscalculated about Derek Hale.

“Uhm … hi.”

Stiles wanted to slap himself for forgetting every single one of his carefully rehearsed opening lines but he couldn’t quite help it, the realization that Derek _loved_ his child simply too heartbreaking for him to think straight.

Derek blinked, straightening up as he fixed Stiles with a wary expression.

“Hi,” he said quietly, his gaze dropping towards the ground and Stiles swallowed, praying to every deity he knew that he wasn’t about to royally put his foot in his mouth again.

Alas, even if he wasn’t about to have his world shattered and then re-formatted, there was one thing he definitely had to say to the man first and he was determined to do it right.

“So … I know I have no right to be here right now, not after everything, but I wanted … I needed … Derek, I am so, _so_ sorry for pushing you that night!”

Derek looked up quickly, surprised, and for a moment Stiles faltered, wondering what the man had been expecting to hear.

“You … you already apologized for that. In an email,” Derek said, his voice sounding tired and Stiles wrung his hands, taking a deep breath.

“It was a messed-up thing to do and now that I know you’re pregnant I don’t think I’ll ever be able to apologize for that enough! I could have seriously harmed you _and_ your baby that night! That wasn’t right! In fact, that’s _never_ right, and I’m not asking you to forgive me, I just need you to know that I am very, very sorry about that. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I … _Stiles_ …”

Derek trailed off, seeming almost heartbroken before he shook his head, looking at Stiles evenly.

“I was out of line and you reacted on impulse. You couldn’t have known about the baby, I was barely even showing then and if something had happened that night it would have been my fault as well as yours. I accept your apology, but as far as I’m concerned we don’t have to talk about this anymore. We don’t have to talk about this at all.”

Stiles sighed.

“I understand where you’re coming from, _believe_ me, I do, I just … there’s something that I … I still need to ask you something.”

Stiles frowned as he tried to get a read on Derek’s emotions, confused by the very mixed signals he was getting.

Derek looked like he was ready to bolt on the one hand, but his tone was heartbroken on the other hand, like Stiles being here was the best as well as the worst thing that had ever happened to him.

It made the next question he knew he had to ask all that much harder, since he was almost sure about what the answer would be now.

He had never really believed in the whole ‘instant-parental-instincts’ thing, but now that he knew that Derek was pregnant and that there was a big chance the baby was his he couldn’t quite deny that every single one of his instincts was screaming at him to protect Derek and the baby against the hatred of his family; the picketing protesters outside the hospital; the political and judicial system that would grant Stiles full custody if he so chose and would leave Derek with almost no legal rights to his own baby; simply, the world as a whole, in which carriers, who had once been revered and beloved by society, had turned into something filthy, something that had to be regulated and controlled in a way that hurt their very basic rights as a human being.

He wasn’t _ready_ to hear he had fathered Derek Hale’s baby, but he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he would do anything in his power to keep that baby safe, to love it as much as humanly possible, not matter how his relationship with Derek was going to develop.

Derek was staring at him now, his eyes wide and filled with something that Stiles didn’t even want to attempt to analyze, and he took a deep breath, bracing himself for the inevitable.

“That night … I mean, I think I know the answer but I still have to ask … did it have consequ …”

“No!” Derek said immediately, tone rather emphatic, and the part of Stiles’ brain that wasn’t reeling back from a metaphysical blow wondered why he was suddenly feeling like a sledgehammer had hit him.

“No?” he asked, just to make absolutely sure, voice failing him as he felt his knees go weak and his eyes opened in shock and Derek shook his head, staring at him in concern that quickly turned to confusion.

“Is that … not a good thing?” he asked, his eyes narrowing and Stiles gaped, disbelief etched into his face.

“What? Why would you even think that I wouldn’t … well … I mean I guess I … no! No, you know what, you’re right, it _is_ a good thing; of course it is! I mean, after all, that would have been a train-wreck waiting to happen! I mean, come on, you, a baby, and me? After everything we did to each other? That’s one way to traumatize a child into the next mental asylum before it’s first birthday, it would have been a messed-up situation beyond belief! Thank god, right?”

He was rambling, he was well aware of that, but the alternative was breaking down and sobbing, either in relief that he hadn’t been the one responsible for this mess, or in pain for the loss of the child he had been so sure had been his only seconds ago.

Derek’s tone had been firm, convinced, no doubt left, his question the final nail in the coffin, and even though it shouldn’t have surprised Stiles that Derek would have been just as unhappy about him being the father as he had been initially at the idea, it was nevertheless a kick where it hurt to realize that for all his efforts to fight for the rights of carriers Derek obviously didn’t believe he could rise to the occasion of being an actual carrier-baby daddy.

Not that he would have deserved Derek’s confidence in any way, shape, or form.

“Thank god,” Derek replied, jolting him out of his whirling thoughts, and when he looked into the man’s face Stiles – for the briefest of moments – wondered what in the world he could have possibly done wrong now, because Derek looked almost gutted.

The look was gone in an instant though, as if Stiles had merely imagined it, and when Derek looked away he seemed almost angry, his arms wrapping tighter around his belly as he stared down at with seemingly unseeing eyes.

Stiles cleared his throat, feeling highly uncomfortable all of a sudden.

“So, Derek … now that we got _that_ out of the way I just … I wanted to … heck, this situation is already awkward as hell, so why not, and please feel free to throw me out, I probably deserve it, but I just have to know. What were you _thinking_? Seriously, what in the world possessed you to argue for the discrimination of carriers with me while not only being a carrier but also being pregnant? I’ve tried to come up with an explanation myself and I have a very vivid imagination, I assure you, but all I came up with here was a blank. I mean …”

He trailed off, shaking his head in frustration, and Derek stared at him, looking like he was weighing his words carefully, a dead look in his eyes that Stiles didn’t like at all.

“I didn’t know I was a carrier. I didn’t find out until I was already about five months pregnant,” he said, and Stiles gaped at him, wondering just how many more shocks he was going to receive that day.

“ _What_? Okay, feel like I just stepped into the plot of a soap-opera. Seriously, _what_? How could you not know? Did your family’s influence somehow enable you to opt out of testing?”

He flinched, berating himself for letting his nerves bypass his brain and making him sound like the most offensive bastard on the planet, but Derek seemed to be taking it in stride, a look of grim amusement on his face now that Stiles didn’t quite care for either.

 “I was _misdiagnosed_. It’s rare but I guess I was one of the ‘lucky’ few.”

“Shit! That’s karma bitching at you at unprecedented levels,” Stiles said flatly, hating himself just a little bit more, and Derek shrugged, muttering, “Yeah, can’t argue that,” under his breath.

He was once again looking like he wanted to be anywhere but here, and Stiles took another deep breath, hoping Derek wasn’t going to laugh in his face for what he was about to say next.

“Well, I guess I should go then, I’m sure you need rest. I just wanted to say that, uhm, I, well, _we,_ as in the ERC, want you to know that we’re on your side, ok? I know you lost your job and I know there’s going to be a bunch of legal battles, probably, but the ERC was founded to help carriers fight for their rights and that includes you now, no matter what happened. I could understand if you don’t want to have to deal with me anymore, my friend Kira is wonderful and she can talk you through everything but please know that … well … I meant every single word when I said I was going to fight for carriers, and I’ll fight for you, too! I understand if you can’t trust me right now, maybe not ever, but I’m … I’m willing to make an effort.”

“Okay,” Derek said, his tone so distant now that it almost felt as if he had slapped Stiles smack into the face and Stiles barely resisted the urge to tug at his hair, wondering if he and Derek would ever be able to be at ease with each other.

Then again, he really shouldn’t have expected anything different and now that he knew that he wasn’t the father after all he seriously questioned his sanity for feeling so upset about not having Derek Hale in his life anymore.

He was probably going insane, had been for months.

It was plain and simple.

“I’ll just … go then,” he said, turning towards the door and freezing in his tracks when Derek whispered, “Thank you. For being honest.”

“Always, Derek,” he answered, confused, and as he joined his father outside, feeling more exhausted than if he had just run a marathon, he wondered if anyone had ever really understood Derek Hale.

 

==================

Good thing.

Trainwreck.

Traumatizing. 

Mental asylum.

 _Thank god_.

Yet another misunderstanding, words spoken too soon, but Derek was almost grateful that this was what his relationship with Stiles was going to be, what it had always been about.

He had thought Stiles was asking if the night in the bathroom had had consequences for the baby, that he had wanted to make sure that Melissa, who wouldn’t have had any legal right to share the condition of the baby with Stiles, had spoken the truth when she had assured him that it had been unharmed by the push, and it hadn’t been until Stiles had started babbling that he had realized what the man had _really_ been trying to ask.

Stiles had been referring to the night they had slept together and not the night in the bathroom, the consequences weighing on his mind not any possible damage to the baby but its paternity, and his response to Derek’s firm ‘no’ had been more than enlightening.

He hadn’t expected Stiles to be happy about being the baby’s father, he wasn’t an idiot, but his reaction had been like a knife plunged inside Derek’s gut and being twisted, every word coming out of Stiles’ mouth a physical blow.

Having a child with Derek was obviously Stiles’ worst nightmare and seeing him so _relieved_ at not being saddled with that burden, the burden of not only the baby but also _Derek_ , was hurting him more than he had thought possible.

He had promised Erica that he would tell Stiles before the birth, was well aware that his sister probably knew who the baby’s father was, too, but now that he knew how Stiles felt for certain the thought of having to see the reverse of that reaction when he told him the truth was just too much to bear.

Shaking, Derek curled up on the hospital bed, arms still wrapped around his belly as he apologized to the child over and over.

For being too afraid to stand up to his own family and creating a future for them that looked the opposite of bright, with no job, no inheritance, and savings that would run out sooner rather than later.

For associating with people who, for all intents and purposes, would not blink twice before killing his unborn baby, his hands metaphorically tied by the intricate web of lethal connections his crazy uncle had obviously assembled over the years.

For not noticing his own baby for so long and, as a result, causing the child possible irreversible harm.

For saddling it with a father who was a coward and a father who had never ever wanted it in the first place.

It was unfair, and there was literally nothing Derek could do right now that wouldn’t risk his baby, the one thing he knew he had to protect with his life.

He had truly, horribly, irrevocably messed up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some thoughts:
> 
> I'm not a lawyer, so while I'm not sure if what Peter and Kali did would in any way be possible in our world, it is possible in my dystopian little AU, so just bear with me (legal talk in another language is surprisingly hard to write, so I hope it made sense!)
> 
> Also, can I just say I love how many of you called Isaac and Stiles out on their little trip down the hypocrisy lane? It's really exciting for me to see how invested you guys are!
> 
> ... oh and once again a bunch of foreshadowing in this chapter, just fyi ;).  
>  
> 
> Next Chapter: Thursday/Friday
> 
> Chapter Title: The One Where There's Finally Some Humor (not really, but the working title is "Hatred and Lamaze Class" and that's just a bit too efficient for my poetic sensibilities)
> 
> Summary: On his way to his first Lamaze class Derek experiences first-hand how much he has upset the carriers by what they perceive to be his 'denial' of his true nature. Also, Derek encounters the last couple he would have ever in a million years expected in his new class.


	15. Lamaze Class

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On his way to his first Lamaze class Derek experiences first-hand how much he has upset the carriers by what they perceive to be his 'denial' of his true nature. Also, Derek encounters the last couple he would have ever in a million years expected in his new class.
> 
> .... not my most creative title, but everything else was too spoilery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that a bunch of you weren't very happy with me about Derek not telling Stiles he's the father for now, but there's a method to my madness that I'll explain in the end note.

**28 Weeks**

Derek had prepared himself for a bit of media interest after he had been released from the hospital, figuring that there would probably be some paparazzi waiting in front of his door for a couple of days before the media lost interest and moved on to another topic.

He had been right, and, courtesy of Cora, Erica, and a very grim looking Boyd not a single reporter had been able to come close enough to actually confront him, as his friends had shielded him on the short walk from the hospital entrance to the car, and then from the car to his apartment building entrance.

Cora had whirled around and delivered a scathing speech about carrier rights, that everyone thinking she should just abandon Derek could go to hell, and that there was no way her mother would have ever been in support of this hatred, giving Erica and Boyd enough time to get Derek up to his loft while the press bombarded Cora with questions about the paternity of the baby.

There had been press presence in front of the building for a couple more days but Derek hadn’t stepped a foot outside his loft, slowly getting used to his new routine of being unemployed and living with his sister.

He had always loved his sisters equally and would have never been able to choose one over the other, but their relationship to each other had been very different.

Laura, older by almost two years, had always been the stereotypical big sister, calling the shots during most of their games and being protective as well as occasionally delighted to pinch her younger siblings’ cheeks until they had tattled on her, an Alpha personality who, Derek had no doubt, would succeed in running the company one day.

They had always joked that Derek would be her second-in-command, but deep in his heart Derek had always known that Laura didn’t actually need him, that she was perfectly fine being a lone wolf when it came to her goals.

The words had never rung truer than now.

Cora, meanwhile, was the baby of the family, a feisty, wild, strong-willed, independent baby no doubt but still the baby and Derek had loved her fiercely from the moment he had first seen her nestled in his mother’s arms.

She had always been a tiny little thing and Derek had always felt like he had to be the big brother, the one who could scare away strange boys on the playground if he had to.

While he had certainly done some of that, having perfected his eye-brow game and menacingly glaring upwards at a very young age, it had often felt as if Cora, who had turned out to be the actual instigator of many a playground fight, had merely humored him.

The fire had not quite changed that, but it had certainly altered their dynamic.

Laura, 15 years old, feeling lost and confused about nearly everything, had attached herself to Peter, desperate to cling to the one authority figure she had had left, willing her grief away through sheer determination as she had soaked up their uncle’s attention and, Derek now realized, been brainwashed by him beyond the point of repair.

8-year old Cora had responded to the grief by suffering from night-terrors, which had often left her lethargic and exhausted during the day and Derek, fresh on his birth-control medication and his still too-young body reacting badly to the strong hormonal injections – based on his new knowledge –, had spent a lot of time lying on his bed in utter exhaustion, not quite sure why he suddenly needed more sleep than a cat but not opposed to Cora cuddling against him and sleeping soundly, desperately needing the rest.

She had taken to sleeping in his bed on most nights during that year, until she had woken up one day and decided that she wasn’t a baby anymore, sometimes kicking and screaming him awake, sometimes lying almost paralyzed as she had sobbed heartbrokenly and Derek had held her through it all, desperate to offer comfort.

In a way, he had felt that if he could only help his little sister it would somehow accomplish something in a situation that had made him feel so utterly helpless.

In the first week after his hospital release it almost seemed as if the situation had been reversed.

He wasn’t suffering from night terrors, not quite, but Derek had definitely never had so many consecutive nightmares in his life, images of Deucalion, Peter, Kate, or even Laura tearing his baby out of him and breaking its little neck jolting him awake and making him gasp for air, tears on his cheeks more often than not.

Cora had lugged a mattress up the stairs to the little spare room in the loft and declared it her personal space, but in that first week she had barely spent any time there at all, choosing instead to curl up next to Derek on his king-sized bed, which had allowed her to hold him through the aftershocks of each nightmare, her presence a steadying constant that Derek hadn’t even realized he had desperately needed.

Derek had slept a lot in the hospital, his body’s exhaustion overtaking his anxiety over the entire situation, but in those first days after his release he had barely found the energy to leave his bed, only getting up to go to the bathroom or pick at the food that Cora had set out for him with grim determination.

His little sister still didn’t know about the baby’s growth-restriction, but Derek could tell Melissa had mentioned _his_ low weight-gain to her, certain there was no other explanation for Cora’s more or less obvious attempts to push as much food at him as possible.

She had purchased three books about pregnancy nutrition (“It’s not like I have anything better to do right now, duh!”) and even though Derek personally thought that some of the rules she had imposed on his food-intake were a bit over the top, given that women and carriers had been eating these things for centuries and still given birth to healthy babies, he had decided he simply wasn’t going to argue with her.

It felt too good to have someone taking care of him, to know that there was someone else who cared about the baby and his own health, and he was all too ready to endure Cora’s particular brand of tough-love mother-henning.

Cora’s, Erica’s, and, to Derek’s surprise, Boyd’s, whose mother had been a midwife and who seemed to be a never-ending fountain of knowledge.

Derek hadn’t heard the man speak that much in all the years he had known him and found it almost amusing that he was now getting lectured by him on a regular basis.

After Erica had been fired for failing to prevent him from getting pregnant – now that he knew about the shots it actually made sense to Derek, but he wasn’t about to tell Erica – Boyd had quit his own job immediately, which meant that they both spent a lot of time at the loft, officially to make sure no protestor was going to find his or her way into the building and unofficially, Derek was pretty sure, because they were simply worried.

He had found Cora googling “early signs of depression” the other day but he was reasonably sure that his need for sleep had physiological and not psychological causes; feeling relieved when, four days after his release from the hospital, he woke up and didn’t feel exhausted at all.

“Your body clearly needed that, I mean, you spent almost two weeks asleep so I don’t even want to know how badly in shape you were before all of this happened! Erica says you don’t slap pregnant people but I’m going to be honest Derek, I’m really tempted right now,” Cora had grumbled at him over her morning-coffee, looking apologetic when Derek had held his nose shut, the smell of coffee still triggering episodes of nausea every now and then.

“You look a lot better, too, by the way, I no longer think you could cut diamonds on your cheek-bones and I think that’s a good thing when you’re growing another person,” she had decided and Derek had shrugged good-naturedly, able to take her teasing in stride because he knew that every pound he gained towards a normal pregnancy weight was actually going to benefit his baby.

Cora had kissed the tips of her fingers and then touched them to his belly on her way out on the balcony, where she planned to spend the day reading up on healthy snacking options and Derek had looked after her with an expression that, he was certain, was a strange composition of love and heartbreak, relieved that Cora hadn’t seen it.

He had found the gesture almost strange at first but Cora had defended the habit hotly, arguing that, “Someone besides you has to do it to make sure Munchkin knows how loved it is and I’m sorry, I’m not going to bend down and just kiss your stomach, that has a really strange vibe that I’m sure Freud would write a trilogy about, so I’m going for the next best thing.”

She had echoed his feelings on the subject perfectly, but it still made Derek feel a little weird, as if his sister was subconsciously trying to assume the role of the baby’s other father, about whose identity she was surprisingly still holding her tongue.

Thoughts like these only led him to Stiles, however, and even though he was now officially on good terms with the man – not quite there yet but at least on his way –, he was still trying to avoid thinking too long about him and how guilty he was feeling about not setting him straight in his mistaken paternity-assumption.

It was a task that became all the more challenging when he actually decided to venture out of his loft later that week.

Derek had expected some form of backlash, but he definitely hadn’t expected the sheer depth of the resentment he suddenly found himself encountering every single time he set foot outside of his home.

Sometimes it were disgusted looking men and women who glared at him on the sidewalk or hurled verbal abuse at him about how he had failed them, how they had never believed him to be a _real man_ in the first place and that they hoped he would trip and lose his abomination.

Sometimes it were hurt, near-betrayed looking men who avoided his eyes in a store, changed the side of the street, or called him a traitor, most of them sounding so deeply defeated that it made Derek want to scream.

There were less comments when Boyd was with him, his large presence seemingly intimidating enough and also because people were obviously thinking he was the baby’s father, but he barely managed to hold Erica back from jumping at a guy on his first trip to the nearby supermarket, giving in to his former assistant’s firm conviction that he needed to start indulging in cravings.

When he and Cora stepped outside the building on the afternoon of his first Lamaze class, a bottle of water clutched in his hand that the old doorman had pushed at him with a shake of his head and a muttered, “’s really hot out Mr. Hale,” Derek wondered if maybe today was the day where he could actually walk around without an incident, proving to his worried guard-dogs once and for all that, social outrage or not, he didn’t have to be watched over all the time now.

Carrier-Lamaze classes filled up relatively quickly because only a few were offered and since Derek had found himself in need of one on such short notice he had not been left with too many options, especially considering his rather controversial reputation.

Melissa had recommended him to a specialist named Malia Tate, who offered classes for women and carriers and had been agreeable to include him in one of her all-female classes on short notice, since there was also one other carrier-couple in the class that had apparently been facing unexpected circumstances.

Derek was grateful, he really was, but at the same time he was absolutely not looking forward to seeing another carrier being cared for by his partner, while he was with his sister.

Not that he didn’t appreciate her presence, he couldn’t even imagine going through the birth on his own at this point, not after he had already spent so much time feeling lonely during this pregnancy, but his intimacy with Cora was of a completely different nature and he was afraid that seeing the other couple would just underline this complicated mess.

The class was ten blocks away from the subway station and though Cora had grumbled about his decision not to take a cab Derek was enjoying the walk, having missed the feeling of activity while he had been cooped up in the hospital and then in the loft.

They were almost half an hour early when they reached the second-to-last block and Derek didn’t put up much of a protest when Cora gently manhandled him into sitting down on a bench, her eyes glittering when she spotted a nearby ice-cream truck.

“Am I carrying the baby or am I looking at it now?” Derek asked, smiling, and Cora scoffed, her eyebrows raised when she glanced at his belly pointedly and demanded to know what the child wanted.

“ _Derek_ wants vanilla, thank you for asking,” Derek grinned, chuckling when Cora rolled her eyes dramatically but moved towards the truck nevertheless, undoubtedly planning to get him the most outrageous flavor the merchant had to offer.

No one had even looked at them twice on the way from the station and as he observed the busy street-life around him Derek allowed himself to relax, tipping his head back to soak up the warm July sun and enjoying the feeling of the child moving around leisurely.

 “ _Traitor!_ ”

Derek froze, eyes snapping open as he whipped his head around and came face to face with a young man, whose gently rounded midsection made it perfectly clear to Derek’s now trained eye that he was an expectant carrier himself.

Not wanting to be a sitting duck ready for a mercy-slaughter Derek stood up quickly, looking for his sister, who was gesturing at the ice-cream guy and too far away for him to call her over the street noise.

He could have walked away from the situation, but people were already stopping, watching them while whispering heatedly to each other and Derek bit back a sigh when he saw the first cell-phone being whipped out, though it only solidified his resolve to stay.

As much as he had been a victim in this entire situation he did feel that he owed this stranger an apology and the more people were there to witness it, the quicker the taunts would stop.

He hoped.

“I lost my job because of you! My boss listened to your half-assed arguments on TV that you couldn’t even bother to deliver with conviction and when I told him I was expecting he flat-out _fired_ me! I have no idea how to pay for my own food, let alone for my baby’s! Yet here you are, enjoying the sun without a single care in the world, looking like you just stepped out of an ERC commercial! You make me sick! You’re a hypocrite! What makes your carrier-baby so much better than mine that mine has to starve and yours gets to enjoy the wealth gained by your fucked up family’s company?”

Derek raised his hands defensively, taking a deep breath as he took in the desperation on the man’s face, the fury that seemed to be equally targeted towards Derek and the entire situation.

“I lost my job, too,” he said loudly, wanting to brain himself immediately after because that was really not helpful whatsoever in the slightest.

The man clearly agreed and took a step towards him with fists raised angrily and his mouth contorted in anger.

Derek didn’t think he wanted to punch him but he took an alarmed step back nevertheless.

The guy looked like Derek could take him easily, but having two pregnant people getting into a fistfight was very much not on his agenda for the day.

“And that’s enough of that! Back off, I mean it!”

Derek’s eyes widened to saucers as he whirled around and came face to face with Stiles … a very angry Stiles, who was stalking towards the other carrier with his arms crossed over his chest and a furious expression on his face, putting himself just between the two pregnant men.

“You of all people should know better than to try and physically attack someone who is expecting, I’m not going to say it again, back the fuck off!” Stiles said loudly, and the other carrier took a startled step back, staring at Stiles with dawning recognition and then outrage.

“Mr. Stilinski? From the ERC?” the other man gasped out and from the frequent camera-flashes around them Derek realized that other people had made the connection as well, wondering just how many youtube videos of this circus he was going to find on the internet later tonight.

“The one and only, and you’re still not backing off!” Stiles confirmed grimly, making a shooing gesture at the other man, who opened his mouth in indignation.

“Excuse me? I can’t believe you’re defending him! I thought you were all about protecting carrier rights!” the guy snapped, staring at Stiles with a betrayed expression and Stiles held his gaze evenly, his arms crossed over his chest again as he squared his shoulders.

“I _am_ all about protecting carrier rights! In fact, I am protecting a carrier right now!” he snapped back, taking a step towards the man and glaring at him with a heated expression.

“I get that you’re angry dude, I really, truly do, but you’re right, I have spent the past months of my life – and even longer than that, actually – fighting for the rights and protection of carriers, and I’m sorry but I just cannot let you assault someone just because you don’t agree with his life choices! That’s not what the ERC is about and you know that very well! We can’t go fighting against each other, we have to stick together in this and I’m going to say it for the last time, calm down and _back off_!” Stiles exclaimed, voice growing louder when the other carrier advanced again, pointing at Derek with a disgusted expression.

“ _He’s_ not one of us! Whatever the fuck he is, he is not one of us! I thought you were a great guy, but you’re obviously as much of a hypocrite as that one if you put his needs over mine!”

“From where I’m standing your needs currently look suspiciously like you want to lash out and physically attack a pregnant man; _his_ needs are being protected against that sort of aggression, not only for his sake but that of his _baby_. So forgive me, but on the question of whose needs are more important right this moment we’ll just have to agree to disagree,” Stiles said calmly, nodding towards the people still gathered around them.

“Do you see those cell-phones? All of these people just got prime footage of one carrier trying to assault another, or at least looking like that’s what he was going for and I’m just willing to bet at least a couple of them will sell that to the press! Whatever damage Derek Hale has personally done to our movement, this type of footage will do just as much damage, if not more, because we’ve been arguing for months that we are the ones able and willing to take the higher road! This is not the higher road! Enough!”

Derek couldn’t see Stiles’ face but he could see the other carrier slowly deflating, the fight going out of his eyes as he shook his head repeatedly.

When he turned around without another word and started walking away Derek breathed a sigh of relief; relief that was short-lived when he realized that Cora was still not back with the ice-cream and he now had to deal with Stiles alone.

As soon as the man was no longer in sight and the crowd had scattered, Stiles whirled around and advanced towards Derek, who took a step back automatically, making the younger man stop immediately, a look of pain flashing over his face that Derek could feel all too well, once again being reminded of that night in the bathroom.

“Are you alright … Derek?” he asked and Derek nodded, not sure what to say otherwise.

Stiles, for the first time since Derek had met him, seemed to be at a loss of words as well.

“So …”he finally began, twiddling his thumbs as he raised his eyebrows at Derek.

“Still awkward.”

Derek chuckled softly, his hands rubbing across his face.

“Understatement,” he replied and Stiles nodded, his hands firmly pushed in his jacket pockets now.

They stared at each other once more and Stiles finally sighed, breaking the silence with a shrug of his shoulders.

“This happens a lot, doesn’t it?” he asked and Derek, surprised that he conversation wasn’t over and Stiles hadn’t bolted yet, nodded again, feeling tongue-tied.

“I’m not surprised. You should see the stacks of hate mail we’ve been getting at the ERC headquarters ever since we issued a statement the day after Central Park in which we told people we condemned any sort of aggression against you. And that’s without the emails. Those actually crashed our server.”

Derek winced, briefly debating if he should apologize for that, then told himself not to be ridiculous.

The baby nudged against his side and he rested his palm over the spot, wondering if someone was going to snap another picture and compare it to the one that had sparked so many rumors. The thought was enough to make him remove his hand and when he looked up Stiles was openly staring; an apologetic grimace on his face when he noticed Derek had caught him.

“Uhm … you’re doing ok? You and baby I mean? Sorry, it’s not my business but I know stress isn’t good for a pregnant person and that little incident just now probably didn’t help,” he said slowly and Derek nodded, trying not to think about the fact that Melissa had decided on weekly appointments because of the baby’s restricted growth.

Stiles was frowning at him, as if his face had given something away he didn’t quite like, and Derek stared at the ground, wondering how he could possibly start making all of this right.

“Are you sure that …”

“I was never against carrier rights!” Derek interrupted him.

After his confrontation with the other carrier he was nowhere near the emotional state where he could have faced Stiles’ concern about the child and setting this long-held misunderstanding right seemed infinitely easier.

Stiles blinked at him, clearly taken aback and Derek sighed softly.

“I mean … I never cared about the issue as much as you do, I didn’t know I was a carrier, so it never affected me much, but I felt horrible over having to fire Danny and I wish I hadn’t. It’s just … when you don’t have much family left and they ask you to … I didn’t …”

He broke off, shaking his head at himself.

The middle of a busy street was definitely not an appropriate venue for _that_ part of the conversation and he felt frustrated at himself for even bringing it up now, muttering, “I was just a spineless coward,” barely inaudibly.

Stiles flinched, his expression guilty.

“Cora?”

“Yep.”

Stiles sighed.

“Well … I’m not going to say I’m sorry. I meant it at the time, I truly did. Still do, in a way. But at the same time, after what just happened and based on the mail we’ve been getting, I also think you’re fucking brave to even go outside the house right now, so there’s that.”

“What are _you_ doing here? What did I miss?”

Derek had seldom been so glad to see his sister, who was quickly approaching with two of the largest ice-cream cones Derek had ever seen, both of them adorned with sprinkles and gummy bears.

“Not much, just a barely avoided fist-fight,” Derek said flatly, taking the ice-cream from her and frowning at the sugary concoction that was clearly not vanilla.

“A _fight_? What happened?”

“Don’t freak out, there was an unhappy carrier who wanted to tell me what he thought about me and the company but Stiles here stepped in before he could even get close to me. I’m ok, don’t worry,” Derek said quickly, eager to put the entire situation beyond them as he took a careful lick of the ice-cream and then frowned.

“Cora? What _is_ this?”

“Cherry-Licorice, but that’s not the point! Stiles, is my brother ok, did that person touch him, how did you even …?”

“I was just walking across the street when I noticed Derek. I wasn’t going to bother him, but when that other guy stated stalking towards him I figured I’d better act. I’m sorry, I hope that was ok.”

Cora groaned, her forgotten ice cream dripping on her hand as she stared back and forth between the two men.

“No Stiles, it was totally not ok that you just saved my brother from a hate-crime! Next time please let the guy spit at him, he has a thing for that!” she snapped, shaking her head with a sigh before she licked off her ice-cream fro her hand, then smacked a kiss on Stiles’ cheek.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, worried expression giving way to a grin when Stiles wiped at his sticky cheek.

“Where are you guys headed anyways, I could walk with you a little, make sure there aren’t any other angry people planning to ambush you,” he said and, smiling at Cora before turning to smile at Derek, though now the smile looked decidedly forced and unsure.

“Lamaze class,” he mumbled, having to literally force himself to get the words out and chiding himself for feeling almost embarrassed about it.

“Huh?” Stiles asked and Derek closed his eyes briefly, trying to ignore the amused grin on his sister’s face.

“Lamaze class. We’re on our way a Lamaze class and we’re starting to run late,” he replied and Stiles bit his lip, the tips of his ears blushing slightly.

“Oh … _oh_. Yeah, well, that’s cool, that should be totally helpful,” he said, obviously as uncomfortable with the situation as Derek was and Derek sighed, not fighting it when they started walking towards Tate’s studio again and Stiles matched their pace.

“I’m sure it will be. I’m a little behind but Melissa says that Dr. Tate has been very accommodating about the situation,” he explained and Stiles made a pleased sound.

“Dr. Tate, huh? Danny and Ethan actually took her all-carrier class, also on Melissa’s recommendation. They loved her, though I have to warn you, she is apparently a bit quirky.”

“Quirky?” Derek asked, raising his eyebrows slightly and frowning at Cora when his sister, apparently having heard the same stories, snorted.

Stiles grinned, obviously relieved that the conversation had moved into safer waters.

“Well I wasn’t going to say strange because that’s rude, but apparently she likes to talk about wolves and coyotes quite a bit. You know, to appeal to the primal, animalistic instincts that come with giving birth.”

Derek’s eyebrows climbed higher and Stiles chuckled, seemingly determined to ignore the tension between them for the moment.

“Don’t look at me like that, you’ll like her, Danny did, and he really doesn’t have much patience for poetic metaphors. And besides, she was spot on with the whole ‘the coyote male brings the mother food into the den for the first ten to twelve days after the birth’ because Danny sent Ethan out for meals four times a day while he was recovering in the hospital. Not a big fan of the food there, though, who could blame him,” he mused and Derek shrugged.

“I guess,” he muttered, coming to a halt in front of the door to the studio and giving Stiles an uncertain look.

“Well … thanks for accompanying us. And thank you again for your help,” he said, scratching at his ear uncomfortably and Stiles’ expression softened.

“Anytime Derek, anytime. So … uhm … are you going to meet the other father outside or is he already inside, you think?” he asked, not looking at him as he did and Derek sternly told himself to focus on his breathing, hoping desperately that Stiles hadn’t noticed how bad he had startled him.

“No. He doesn’t ... he’s not …” he stuttered, looking anywhere but the younger man in front of him, the horrible feeling growing in his chest when Stiles looked at him with a mixture of sympathy and righteous anger at the ‘other father’ who wasn’t showing an interest in his child.

“The other father has _no clue_ about all of this, so I’m stepping in until these two idiots get their shit sorted out,” Cora said conversationally, looking like the picture of innocence as she twirled a strand of hair around her finger.

Derek stared at her, giving her an almost wounded look and Cora stared back evenly.

_Don’t! Please, don’t!_

**_I’m not going to, jeez! But I should! This is ridiculous!_ **

Years of knowing his little sister better than anyone in the family had taught Derek a lot about non-verbal communication and as they glared at each other there was no doubt left in his mind that Cora knew who the baby’s father was and that she did not approve of his secrecy.

At all.

Thankfully, his sister also respected his privacy at least sometimes and when Derek turned back towards Stiles, who was staring back and forth between the Hale siblings and looking deeply uncomfortable he sighed.

 “It’s alright,” _It’s really not,_ “Luckily I still have a sister left.”

 _Ouch_.

Derek flinched at the sympathetic look on Stiles’ face and Cora sighed dramatically, frowning when her phone began to buzz in her pocket.

“Can you walk him in, I’ll be there in a sec,” she told Stiles before answering the call and Derek was too startled to protest that this was really unnecessary.

“Just as well, I was going to give Malia Tate a call anyways, favor for a friend, and I might as well talk to her right now, this works out perfectly,” Stiles said, voice much too cheerful to be genuine and when they walked inside the room he looked around, a frown spreading all over his face.

“There’s only women and their husbands in here. Are you sure this is the right class?”

“There’s one other carrier-couple,” Derek answered and when Stiles looked at him in genuine concern he wondered just how much of his reluctance to go inside was showing on his face right now.

“That’s going to be awkward, are you sure that’s …”

“ _Finally_! I thought you got jumped on the way based on what I’ve seen on the news and that would have really pissed me off if I would have had to explain that to Melissa! Get in here already, I haven’t got all day!”

Derek and Stiles looked at each other, then at the woman – Malia – who was advancing towards them, an annoyed expression on her face and her hair bouncing off her head almost wildly as she came to a stop in front of them, fixing Stiles with a very firm glare.

“I was expecting you and your sister, but what are _you_ doing here? Are you going to stage a publicity scandal?” Malia asked bluntly, giving Stiles an, in Derek’s opinion, somewhat undeserved stink-eye and Stiles flailed back, clearly startled.

“Huh? What, no, Cora’s outside, I …”

“You better not! This is a safe space and I won’t tolerate nonsense in my class! If you came here to make some grand statement and humiliate my client then I swear I will …”

“Come for my balls, I know, Danny mentioned you have interesting methods of persuasion,” Stiles finished for her, his anxiety having given way to amusement as he flashed her a friendly, if challenging grin.

Malia raised her eyebrows, then she grinned back, clearly remembering Danny now.

“Ah! The belly that started it all! How’s that little munchkin doing, I tell these people they have to send me pictures after the birth but you’d be surprised how few people actually remember,” she mused and Stiles obligingly pulled out his phone, showing her his screensaver on which a very naked baby seemed to be having the time of his life in a bathtub.

“Perfect combination of both of his daddies,” Malia concluded, prompting Stiles to exclaim “I know, _right_?” and leaving Derek, who was standing in the doorway like a package left at the station, feeling a bit excluded.

He was also ashamed to discover that he was actually feeling slightly jealous at the easy banter between the two, while his own interaction with Stiles that afternoon had been horribly stilted.

“Anyway, Cora is coming in soon and I was wondering if I could maybe give you a call sometime? I have a favor for a friend to ask and …”

“You know what, stay! This class is designed for pregnant people and their partners and I don’t have a lot of spare-fathers lying around, so as long as the sister is a no-show I’m sure you wouldn’t mind stepping in, would you? You can talk to me after class!”

“But Cora’s right …” Stiles began, his protests dying on his tongue when Malia made a grab for Stiles’ arm and tugged him towards a yoga mat, pushing him down unceremoniously and completely ignoring how stock-still the other man had become.

“Miss Tate, my sister …” Derek began but Malia, who had returned for him and was now gently tugging at his forearm, shook her head brusquely.

“The name’s Malia and if your sister is the wildly gesticulating beauty whom I just saw yell into a phone from the window it’s going to be a while until she shows up. We really have to get started, so I think this works for everyone!” she said, maneuvering him so that he found himself sitting down between Stiles’ spread legs, the urge to run away very strong as his heartbeat began to speed up.

“Perfect, this will work out just fine!”

She left them sitting there like two deer caught in the headlights and Derek was almost sure he could feel the tension radiating from Stiles behind him.

“Derek, I’m so sorry, I’ll go, this is inappropriate, I have no right to be here, I …”

“No it’s fine, she’s right I guess, you can tell Cora what she missed later,” Derek replied, voice decidedly choked.

Stiles clearly noticed, because he inhaled deeply and then put his hand on Derek’s shoulder, only the lightest of touches.

“I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, I really should go, I …”

“ _Nope_! No, I will not stand for this, go away, I don’t want _him_ here!”

Derek froze at the sound of the enraged male’s voice, heart thumping wildly, surprised but nevertheless upset that the other carrier-couple obviously didn’t want to have the same class as him, Derek Carrier-Hypocrite-Extraordinaire-Hale.

Stiles’ grip on his shoulder tightened as Derek turned towards the speaker, ready to see disgust and contempt on his face.

To his great surprise he found himself staring at Bobby Finstock, who was glaring heatedly.

At _Stiles_.

“Moon of my life, my sun and stars, hey Coach!” Stiles exclaimed and Derek’s eyes widened, his jaw dropping towards the floor.

“Bilinski!” Finstock groaned, slumping forward and burying his head against the shoulder of a very, _very_ pregnant man, so pregnant, in fact, that Derek almost did a double take, having never seen a pregnant guy carry quite that large before, even in the movies.

The man – seriously, was this normal, Derek was getting stretch marks just from looking at him - rolled his eyes and grinned, reaching out one hand to shake first Stiles, then Derek’s hand with slightly puffy fingers.

“It was too good to be true, after you were finally gone from the office Lacrosse team I thought I’d never have to see your or your infuriatingly freckled face ever again but no, here you are, ruining all my joy and happiness, as usual!” Finstock continued and Stiles threw his head back to laugh loudly, his tension dissipating.

“Aaaah, Coach, you love me, admit it already!” he grinned and Derek, who seemed to remember something about Bobby Finstock coaching the company Lacrosse team on weekends, blinked, wondering what other surprises this day was going to hold.

Finstock scowled, shaking his head disapprovingly and glaring at the two of them like they were indeed ruining everything that was wonderful.

They man propped up against Finstock’s chest turned slightly and coughed politely, one hand coming to rest on what Derek was by now desperately hoping wouldn’t be his future, because he was certain his back would snap in two.

Finstock glared at him, then groaned.

“What is it Greenberg, can’t you see I’m having a life-crisis here?”

“ _Greenberg_?”

“ _The_ Greenberg?”

“You actually exist?”

“Are you … _Greenberg_?”

Stiles and Derek were gaping simultaneously, both of them trying to comprehend what they had just heard and Finstock’s scowl deepened, while Greenberg just raised a bushy eyebrow.

“Yes, Greenberg! Why is that so shocking to you, I talk about him all the time?” Finstock snapped, wrapping both arms around the – in Derek’s humble opinion, not that he was judging – significantly younger man in front of him and covering approximately thirty percent of his stomach, not that Derek was paying any attention to that whatsoever.

“I thought he was your imaginary friend!” Stiles exclaimed, hands waving wildly and Derek blushed when he nodded, a little ashamed to admit he had actually thought that, among the many, many, many wild theories about who this Greenberg-person Finstock ranted to on the phone daily could possibly be, the imaginary friend-scenario had always seemed the most plausible to him.

Well, that or the secret identity of Batman, for which Erica had made a pretty convincing case one day.

“How are you … I didn’t even know you were dating, Coach!” Stiles wondered, sounding like his entire worldview had just shifted and Greenberg lifted the hand that had formerly been resting on his Mount Everest-sized belly– Derek was still in shock, it wasn’t his fault – to display a shiny wedding band.

“Dating? _Dating_? Ha! Married is more like it Bilinski, worst decision of my life, I tell you! Did you know that they tell you you’ll save tax money when you get married but in the end you actually have a lot less money because you constantly have to buy your spouse chocolate, and flowers, and presents, and take them on romantic trips to renew the vows and all that nonsense? I don’t make nearly enough at _Hale_ & _Argent_ to keep Greenberg happy and it makes me feel like a horrible provider, which is just _sad_!” he ranted, glaring at Derek as if the company salary policy was his fault.

“And then I just had to go and knock him up with _four_ children and honestly Bilinski, how am I ever going to pay for all of that? Four times the diapers, four times the clothes, four times the school supplies, four lacrosse uniforms, heck, all the _food_! If they take after Greenberg I’ll be eaten out of house and home before they even go to Kindergarten, I tell you! My mother always told me, “Bobby, be the best at everything you do,” but did my sperm have to listen, too? I mean, _four_? Who even does that? Crazy people! That’s who!” he lamented and Derek was pretty sure he could see the other carrier’s lips curl in amusement when he, on instinct, wrapped his arms around his comparatively tiny belly in what he was afraid was obvious relief that this was in fact not his future.

“We shouldn’t even be here right now, I mean, no sane person in their right mind would even _attempt_ to give birth to quadruplets the natural way, but no, Greenberg here saw _Amigos_ and thinks that just because the crazy cat lady did it with three, he can as well! So of course he has to go and find the only insane Lamaze teacher in the entire city, who, when she isn’t raving about coyotes and how they schlep food into the den, keeps assuring him that he’ll have our _litter_ just the way it was intended to! Crazy people, all of them, these classes cost a fortune and of course the insurance doesn’t cover, because, again, no sane person would when you’re expecting _four_!”

Greenberg didn’t even move a muscle and Finstock grunted as if to say, “ _See_?”, before continuing to rant at the two dumbstruck men.

Derek briefly looked over to Malia Tate, who was in the process of setting up, wondering if he should ask Melissa to give him the number of another teacher, afraid that the woman wasn’t quite as good as he had thought if she was really willing to risk the possible complications of Greenberg giving birth to four babies naturally.

“And the cravings, don’t even let me get started on the cravings, each frickin’ kid has different demands and I’m spending my last dime on four different take-outs every single night and he _never_ finishes them, it’s money thrown down the toilet, I’ll be in the poorhouse before they are even born!” Finstock continued and as if on cue Greenberg, who had been slurping on a green Smoothie, held up his empty cup with a brilliant smile.

Finstock let out a dramatic sigh.

“See what I mean? Those craptastic things cost like ten dollars, that’s two of these overpriced mochas Bilinski likes to bathe in! I’m going to go into my grave a destitute man, mark my words, the family life is expensive!” he ranted, before looking around at the other fathers in the room.

“Hey, you! And you there! Get me pillows! All of the pillows! Chop chop!” he barked and apparently it wasn’t the first time he had done it, because five seconds later ten pillows sailed through the air, all but one hitting Finstock square in the face.

Greenberg rolled his eyes again when Finstock, still ranting about being eaten out of house and home, propped the pillows behind his back so he’d have support while he was busy _providing_ for his pregnant husband and when he had finally trotted out the door Greenberg, resting comfortably against the pillows and hands tracing circles into his belly, chuckled.

“Don’t mind Cupcake, he’s just nervous,” he said, his voice the deepest bass Derek had ever heard and judging by the thunderstruck look on Stiles’ face he had also not been expecting _that_.

Shrugging, Greenberg unwrapped a chocolate bar, breaking off a piece and holding it to Derek, who shook his head automatically, having never really liked chocolate before and certain that he wouldn’t now, even if the smell was delicious.

“Don’t worry by the way, I could see you flinch when Cupcake was rambling, I’m well aware I’ll have to go under the knife to get them out safely, but Cupcake was so excited when I started puking all over the place that he went and made an entire birthing plan before I could even drink enough water to create enough pee for the stick. He looked so disappointed when they found the third baby on the screen and he realized that natural birth went out the window, so I figured I’d at least give him the experience of Lamaze class. Malia was quite accommodating. We’re not paying a single cent, actually, but don’t tell him that, he likes to feel like he’s providing,” Greenberg explained smoothly and Stiles snorted in surprise, staring at the man.

“I honestly thought you didn’t exist,” was the only thing he seemed to be able to come up with in response and Greenberg laughed, his entire stomach shaking in a way that almost gave Derek a heart attack.

“We get that a lot. I’m an opera singer so I work late into the night and usually sleep for most of the day. My stage-name isn’t Greenberg, obviously, so no one ever has much luck in googling me, and that’s why people keep thinking I don’t exist at all. It’s fine, as long as Cupcake always picks up the phone when I call that’s really all that matters.”

“What’s your stage-name?” Derek asked, actually curious. His mother had loved the opera and taken him frequently as a child, though he hadn’t set foot into the theater ever since the fire, feeling her loss too harshly even if he just thought about it.

“Franz Xaver Gerl, after the man who sang Sarastro in the original _Magic Flute_ premiere in 1791,” Greenberg grinned and yep, Derek could definitely see him sing that role, especially with his bushy eyebrows.

“And your first name? All I ever heard was Greenberg?” Stiles asked, grinning when Derek muttered, “All the _entire_ building ever heard was Greenberg,” and nudging his upper arm in a way that made Derek ache because it felt so familiar, as if Stiles had forgotten that he and Derek weren’t actually friends.

If he noticed the suddenly sad expression in the other carrier’s face Greenberg didn’t show it.

“Bobby.”

“ _What_?”

“Bob. Well, Robert, really. And yes, I know, like Cupcake, but that’s why he calls me Greenberg, said it would feel too weird to call out his own name in the throes of passion. He’s a bit of a narcissist, my Cupcake, but not _that_ bad.”

Stiles’ brain was obviously still rebooting so Derek leaned forward a little, staring at Greenberg’s belly in fascination.

“And you’re really carrying four?” he asked and Greenberg laughed again, this time accompanied with a shake of his head.

“Five, actually, but Cupcake is still in denial about that. We just found out yesterday and I’m not sure whether it’s the additional expense or the fact that he’s secretly terrified something’s going to happen, but as far as he’s concerned for now Doctor McCall is taking psychedelic drugs.”

“ _Quintuplets_? My Coach is having quintuplets? Holy shit, Scott is going to crap himself!”

Greenberg smiled pleasantly.

“I wasn’t surprised, to be honest. Knew there had to be something they were missing. The first four are identical and basically the first thing Melissa noticed on the in-depth, 3-D special ultrasound was a penis, so we’ve known we’re going to have four little boys for months. And that’s awesome, obviously, but I’ve also gotten a girl-vibe about this entire situation ever since we first found out, so it was a relief to know I wasn’t going crazy when Melissa finally found our little princess on the ultrasound yesterday. She’s either been in hiding or her brothers have been protecting her, either way, I’m just glad I don’t suck as terribly at this paternity instinct thing as Cupcake claims. Once it’s really sunken in he’ll be so hell-bent on planning sparkling tea parties that he’ll completely forget that we’ll have to add an entire set of baby-girl clothing to the list of expenses, so it will be just fine.”

He patted his stomach wistfully and Stiles let out a whistle, clearly still in shock.

“There’s going to be four _identical_ miniature versions of Bobby Finstock and a _girl_ version as well? I don’t think the world is prepared for this!”

Greenberg grinned.

“Neither are we, to be honest, but that’s the beauty of parenthood, isn’t it?”

He winked at Derek, when he said it, and Derek almost felt like an imposter when he nodded, painfully aware that so far his experience with pregnancy and parenthood had been somewhat unorthodox and in no way beautiful.

He was about so say something profound that would probably sound fake to his own ears when Finstock returned with not one but two large smoothies, handing the second one to Derek without comment as he settled back in behind his husband.

Surprised, Derek took a sip, realizing immediately why Greenberg had asked for another.

He closed it his eyes, savoring the taste and when he opened them again Stiles was staring at him with an almost fond expression, the open look in his eyes immediately disappearing and switching to distantly polite when he noticed Derek staring.

Cora was still nowhere in sight and Stiles shrugged, as if to say, _Well, I guess we’re doing this then_ , as he settled back in behind Derek.

He wasn’t here as Derek’s friend, definitely not as the father, he was just here for moral support – and because Malia Tate was obviously a dictator – after Derek had already had a pretty terrible day and all at once the delicious smoothie tasted somewhat sour.

When Cora finally stumbled into the classroom she looked thunderous and Derek didn’t even ask whom she had argued with, the list of people who could have gotten her so worked up rather small these days.

Until this point Stiles’ presence behind him had been both comforting and nerve-wrecking, his long fingers flexing as they rested on the knees on either side of Derek, and he had barely refrained from grabbing them and pushing them against his belly, yearning for Stiles to connect with their child even if he didn’t know it was his, but he didn’t, aware that Stiles was just being polite by keeping this as practical as possible.

He had been able to feel Stiles’ body heat behind him and when the man wordlessly stood up to let Cora take his place Derek had felt both relieved and sad, feeling infinitely more comfortable with Cora but upset at himself for not yet having gathered the courage to tell Stiles that his presence was very much appropriate.

“Bilinski! I need to pee, take over here!” Coach whispered rather loudly, gesturing towards his husband and Stiles seemed glad that he had something else to do, having apparently decided to stick around to the end so he could actually talk to Malia.

All in all, class had an almost relaxing effect on Derek, soothing at least some of his worries about how he was supposed to give birth to this baby, even though he wasn’t quite sure about the relevance of coyote mating practices in this context.

After Malia had released the class by making them join her in a wolf howl – _quirky_ had obviously been a bit of an understatement – Derek smiled in sympathy when a grunting Finstock barked for Stiles’ help in pulling his husband off the pillow-nest on the floor, sharing a hesitant smile with Greenberg as they shook their heads at the two huffing and puffing non-carriers, who obviously had no idea what a back-ache really was.

“You and Cora have a way to get home Derek?” Greenberg asked, not even bothering with the formal Mr. Hale and Derek, who had thoroughly enjoyed moving around for a bit after spending almost two weeks in a bed and had planned to walk back to the subway, nodded, raising his eyebrows when Finstock grunted.

“He can be so accommodating towards other people, can’t he? With me it’s always Cupcake this, Cupcake that, Cupcake if you don’t penetrate me right now I’ll sing the Queen of the Night’s lament and all the neighbors will come knocking again!”

He threw an arm across a very startled Stiles’ shoulders, punching his fist against his chest so hard that the younger man winced.

“Pregnant people, ey? Never satisfied, always demanding you stand at attention! I’m almost forty years old, my refractory period can’t take this, god, if I had known it would be like this I’d have knocked up my high school sweetheart, at least back then I could get aroused at the sight of a very stiff tree! My back will be broken by the time this is over, and not only because I’ll have to work double and triple time to pay for all of this no, it’ll also be broken from all the sex!”

He turned to Derek, whose ears felt like they were about to spontaneously combust.

“I hope you’re considering yourself lucky you snagged yourself a young baby-daddy, this one can at least perform to your satisfaction! Greenberg here got stuck with me, the poor bastard, if I can get it up twice a day now I play “Conquest of Paradise” to reward myself!”

Derek paled, all amusement at the man’s antics gone and when Stiles held up his hands and gasped, “Wow, wait, no!” while throwing a panicked look at Derek the older man could literally feel something inside himself die.

Not that he was in any way surprised after his reaction in the hospital.

Finstock was staring in confusion, his “Huh?” sounding very much not convinced and Cora was rolling her eyes so hard it looked like it was painful, her expression telling Derek he was an idiot in multiple languages.

Greenberg, meanwhile, was staring at him in concern as Derek tried to school his features into impassivity, though he clearly wasn’t quick enough when Stiles’ panicked look was replaced by guilt.

“Oh shit, sorry, that was super rude, I did _not_ mean it that way Derek, I just thought you wouldn’t want people to think that … aw _hell_!”

Stiles sighed, rubbing his hands over his eyes with a soft grunt.

“Hey, you know what, I actually wanted to talk to Malia after, so … I’ll just go then. Have a safe trip back home, ok, and if something like on the way here happens again, don’t hesitate to tell us, we can put out another statement to tell people to back the hell of. It might not help much, but the effort counts, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I will. Go do your thing. I’ll see you when I see you I guess,” Derek replied and he barely waited for Stiles response before he turned around abruptly and walked out of the room, no longer able to stand the vicinity of the man for even one second.  

“Hey, Hale, wait up!”

Derek, who rushed stepped out of the building like a man needing air desperately stopped and turned around, only to see Finstock marching towards him, followed by a very slow moving Greenberg and a pained looking Cora.

“Listen, I’m not even going to comment on the complete social failure I witnessed just now, but are you two sure you don’t want us to take you home? I bought a mini-van two months ago – the expense has kept me up at night, I can assure you – and it’s about time we try out the backseats. Would have done it earlier but well, you know, flexibility and all that gets impacted by preg… _ouch_ , Greenberg, stop hitting me! Anyways, my moon and stars here insists, and I agree, you kind of look like you’re not going to make it back on foot.”

“We’d love to, thanks for the offer, that’s very kind of you!” Cora answered quickly, her expression soft now as she looked at Derek in concern.

Greenberg nodded firmly, gently lowering himself onto the bench while his husband disappeared around the corner to retrieve the car, followed by Cora who, Derek remembered now, had always been rather fond of the man, despite the weekly complaints he had made about literally everyone at the company at one point.

“Of course a car in New York City will be a nightmare, but with five babies I really don’t see how else we are supposed to get from A to B for the next five to ten years,” Greenberg mused, looking at Derek with a concerned expression when the other carrier sank down on the bench next to him.

“I know you didn’t want chocolate, but you look sad, so …” Greenberg said carefully, once again holding out another chocolate bar and when Derek took in the sympathetic expression on the man’s face he realized that it was the closest Greenberg was allowing himself to comment on Stiles’ rather horrified reaction to the thought that they were a couple and Derek’s subsequent internal breakdown, which had obviously not been as internal as he had hoped.

“Just try it … Cupcake went and bought this for me from the finest Swiss chocolateria in the city. I tried to tell him I could have done with a twix bar instead and got lectured on my responsibility to feed our babies only the best this world has to offer. He’s a special snowflake.”

Derek shook his head with a small smile he didn’t quite feel, bracing himself against his body’s conditioned response to dark chocolate and opening his eyes wide in surprise when his tastebuds all but exploded in ecstasy.

“Good, huh?” Greenberg said with an amused grin when Derek took a bite that was so large it almost made him feel ashamed for his eagerness and he nodded, looking at the bar in surprise.

“I never liked chocolate much but …”

“Baby likes it, hmm? It happens, one of my boys – or it might be the girl, I’m undecided – really has a thing for Nutella-Sandwiches with pickled sauerkraut. Cupcake just about threw up in his mouth a little, it was hilarious,” Greenberg reminisced, both hands resting on his belly with a fond smile.

Derek was about to reply when a young voice across the street yelled, “Freaks!” and when he looked up he was disheartened to discover that the kid couldn’t have been more than 10, 12 at the most.

The boy’s mother quickly grabbed his shoulders and pulled him away, though her look of utter disgust didn’t escape either Derek’s or Greenberg’s notice.

“Hate breeds hate, exhibit A,” Greenberg muttered, shrugging as he unwrapped his own chocolate bar.

“Doesn’t it … doesn’t it bother you at all? Especially considering …”

“Considering that I’m probably the largest pregnant man anyone in this city has ever seen in their lives at this point? Why should it? I love who I am and if they can’t accept that it’s their fault, not mine. Besides, I don’t know any of these people, so even if I did care it wouldn’t quite make sense now, would it?”

“I used to be one of them,” Derek muttered, looking away and Greenberg sighed.

“Yeah, well, based on how Cupcake has described the atmosphere at your company and the way your uncle behaves, I almost can’t blame you for keeping your own opinions to yourself.”

He shrugged, looking at Derek intently.

“In case you were wondering, Cupcake isn’t going to lash out at you. He comes off as insane sometimes, I probably know that better than most, but he’s more observant than everyone gives him credit for and he was furious when he came home from work that first day after the debate in the park, said he almost got into a fist-fight with people over the way they were talking about you. He’s always thought you were a good man and we might not agree with the role you played in this media circus, but we both think you had your reasons so, since we don’t know what those reasons were, we are not going to judge you.”

“You’re in the minority,” Derek mumbled and the other man shrugged.

“Would it make you feel better if I treated you like a traitor? Went online to compose hateful blog-post about how I wished your child would wither inside of you and die? Spat at you on the street?”

Derek flinched and Greenberg rested his hand on his shoulder after a second of hesitance, voice firm but compassionate.

“Thought so. So why should I do that when I like to believe I’m a good person? Let me tell you something, Derek. When I was diagnosed as a carrier my mother thought the world was about to end and she didn’t speak to me for almost a week, but my father sat me down that night, after he had packed her off to bed with a shot of bourbon and two sleeping pills, and he told me my life was going to be rough, and maybe terrifying, and that I’d have to get a much thicker skin than I had now if I wanted to make it, but that would he only ever judge me for my choices, not for who I was. And for years I thought he meant that he would hate me if I got pregnant, but I finally realized that what my father meant that night was that he wanted me to stand up for myself as a carrier and not submit to the hatred in our society. Granted, I was a bit too young to fully get that, and he could have worded it better, but let me tell you something else; I delivered my last performance before my paternity leave as Sarastro when I was about five months along. I looked like an average carrier about ten weeks overdue and my father was sitting in the audience. Afterwards he went into the foyer and told everyone who would listen that I was his son, that instead of hiding my condition I had gone, put myself into an actual spotlight, and blown all of them away, looking proud, fierce, and strong. If I can do _that_ , why would I cower in front of a 12 year old boy who has had the misfortune of growing up around hatred?”

Derek looked at the ground, wondering if he would ever be able to see it that way and Greenberg patted his shoulder in sympathy.

“Hey. You were misdiagnosed, weren’t you? At least that’s what Cupcake thinks and it makes sense. If you were misdiagnosed and didn’t know you could carry then you haven’t had nearly as much time to get used to who you actually are as I have. Trust me Derek, you get used to it. It might be scary at first because different is often seen as scary, but in the end it’s just another part of what makes you who you are. The importance you give it is up to you alone, not the people around you. Some carriers like to define themselves through it, others never want to have children but still embrace the possibility that they can. There are things we can’t change about ourselves, but we _do_ have influence over how we live our lives. And whatever choices you make, you have to make sure they are the right choices for you. And unlike some other life-choices, this one actually comes with a rather sweet reward, don’t you think so?”

“Yes,” Derek whispered and Greenberg smiled, understanding all over his face.

“Exactly. It’ll be fine Derek. You’ll see.”

As Finstock and Cora pulled up with the van and then helped Greenberg off the bench Derek rested his arms on his belly, something he hadn’t quite been able to do before and hoping desperately that the continuing growth of his stomach actually meant his tiny stowaway was growing as well.

_You have to be just fine, did you hear that? I don’t know what I’m going to do if you aren’t._

 

===================

 

“And you are absolutely sure this is fine?”

“Yes! And if you ask me one more time I’ll … I don’t know … hide your cookies or something! Honestly Jordan, don’t be an idiot! Danny and Ethan moved out two weeks ago, the guest room is free, your doctor is twenty minutes away and your baby is due in two weeks! This makes perfect sense!”

“You can even stay longer, really, we don’t mind, it’s been so quiet here ever since Ethan and Danny got their own place again. Don’t tell Stiles I told you, but he’s been sneaking into the guest room and cuddling a stuffed animal to pretend it’s Nicky. He _really_ misses the baby.”

“I’m standing right next to you Mr. “But you to have to video-chat everyday so we can see Nicky’s face”, you realize that, right?”

Scott and Stiles grinned at each other, then at Jordan, who was sitting on the couch in their apartment and looking quite amused.

“Seriously man, don’t sweat it. We’re pros at handling pregnant people and newborn babies and we really don’t mind doing this for you!”

“It’ll only be a month at most and I’ll of course help out with the rent,” Jordan promised, glaring at Stiles when the younger man opened his mouth to protest.

“Don’t even Stilinski,” he said easily and Stiles sighed.

“ _Fine_! But we’re going to buy Baby J tons of presents and you won’t be able to do a thing about it!”

Jordan grinned, patting the tiny bulge fondly.

“I’m sure she’ll appreciate them,” he mused and Stiles nodded.

“Speaking of presents, I spoke to a kick-ass Lamaze instructor today and she said she’d be willing to talk to you about your birthing-center idea. I know Melissa isn’t a big fan of birthing babies without a surgeon for emergency c-sections a room away, but Malia also works as a doula and she would love to meet with you and figure something out that will work both for Melissa and you.”

“Melissa gave me Malia’s number the other day, actually, she’s going to stop by tomorrow night, but I appreciate that you took the time,” Jordan said, holding up his phone as he cocked his eyebrow at Stiles.

“How did _you_ meet Malia though?” he asked and Stiles shrugged sheepishly.

“Uhm … well, I guess I kind of met her while attending a Lamaze class with Derek Hale and his sister earlier today,” he answered, flinching when both Scott and Jordan gasped in disbelief.

“ _Hold on_!” Scott yelped, squatting in front of him with a shocked expression.

“Why would you attend Lamaze class with _Derek_? You said he told you that you weren’t the father, so why would that _ever_ happen?”

Stiles sighed.

“I ran into them earlier today, while they were on their way. Some upset carrier really harassed him, so I figured I’d walk them the rest of the way. Then we were there and suddenly we were inside the room and Cora was on the phone and then Malia snatched me up before I could run away and … _holy crap_ , that reminds me, did you know that Finstock is married to _Greenberg_ and having quintuplets with him?”

“I told you Greenberg was a real person,” Scott said impatiently, not nearly as impressed by the news as Stiles had expected.

“That’s not the point though, the point is you playing happy family with Derek. Are you sure that’s wise?”

“There is nothing happy about it, I assure you, it was awkward as heck and Derek looked like he was planning to escape until the minute Cora stepped in and took over. And I didn’t bad-touch him if that’s what you were thinking, I just tried to be supportive!”

“Bad, bad, _bad_ idea!” Scott said vehemently, looking towards Jordan, who sighed.

“Listen, Scott is right. I have only caught glimpses of this entire drama over the past couple of months but even I could tell that your emotions towards Derek Hale are extremely conflicted and, based on his reaction when he thought you were my baby-daddy, I’m pretty sure his emotions are really conflicted as well when it comes to you. The guy is pregnant with another man’s baby and that’s a whole other drama waiting to happen, so don’t dangle hope in front of him where there is none.”

“Whoa, what? Baby-daddy? _Me_? Why would he even …?”

“Your dad referred to Baby J as his granddaughter and Hale looked like the world had come to an end. Listen, I have enough relationship drama of my own to sort through right now, so I’m not going to get involved in yours, but the man I interviewed in the station that day was very lonely, very unhappy, and when he thought I was pregnant with your baby he looked like he wanted to tear my face off for a moment there. Just saying.”

“Pretty sure that’s his default facial expression, so I wouldn’t take it to heart. And besides, you didn’t hear him when I asked if the baby was mine. A more emphatic ‘no’ has never ever been uttered in the nation, except maybe for that time when the Brits asked if we wouldn’t just love to pay taxes without representation! He’s glad I’m not the baby’s father and so there’s really no reason for him to harbor any false assumptions when it comes to what we have between us. Which is nothing!”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Scott muttered, shaking his head like he thought Stiles was the biggest idiot on the planet.

“I’m just trying to do the right thing here!” Stiles called after him, wincing.

“Well, that does sound like I’m playing baby-daddy I guess. Not what I meant. Speaking of baby-daddies – when can we expect the Centurion and the Pirate to grace us with their presence?”

Jordan shook his head with a sigh and Stiles grasped his shoulder, squeezing tightly.

“That bad?”

“Well … not towards me, but they’ve been getting extremely territorial about her and that’s just stress I don’t need. So we agreed that I’m going to focus on bringing her into the world safely for now, without being distracted by their constant fighting, and once she’s here and we can actually determine her paternity, we’ll take it from there.”

“They won’t be there for you during the birth?” Stiles asked, frowning, and Jordan shook his head.

“Nah. We talked it through and they almost punched each other over the question who’d get to cut the cord. I love that they are both ready to step up, I do, I’m grateful she’ll be loved no matter who her father turns out to be, but … I don’t know, I wish they wouldn’t act like kindergarteners fighting over the best toy. I just don’t need that kind of crap in the delivery room.”

“That’s for sure,” Stiles agreed and Jordan turned towards him with a hesitant smile.

“I know this is short notice, and you can say no, of course, but we’ve been friends for a while and well, I trust you and I really don’t want to do it alone, so do you think that maybe …”

“Heck yes! I held Danny’s leg like a pro, I am awesome at attending births!” Stiles exclaimed and Jordan laughed, looking relieved.

“I was hoping you were. Again, I know this is super short-notice but I was probably a bit naïve to plan for a relaxed delivery atmosphere with two men in the room who’re basically ready to duel each other.”

“I understand. Are they going to be ok with that though? With missing out on her birth?”

“Well they’re not happy about it, but I asked them flat-out if they could guarantee me that they wouldn’t fight over such things as who gets to cut the cord and who gets to hold her first and when they both realized that they couldn’t guarantee me this they were the first to suggest not being there. Which actually does give me hope that they can get their act together and be mature once she’s born.”

He sighed loudly, looking at Stiles with a sad smile.

“It’s not an ideal situation. But this, you being there for me instead of two men who hate each other and who can’t trust themselves to leave that animosity out of the delivery room, this is making the best of a tricky situation.”

Stiles chuckled humorlessly.

“I tell you, with all this delivery-support practice I’m getting I might just as well have been the father of Derek’s baby … I would have known what to do, at least.”

Jordan raised his eyebrows questioningly.

“Did you _want_ to be the father?”

Stiles shrugged.

“Well, when I was sure it was mine I didn’t, but when he told me it wasn’t I … I don’t know. It hurt. Does that make sense?”

Jordan clapped a hand on his shoulder, expression serious.

“Scott is absolutely right. If this is how you feel, after everything, then you really need to keep your distance from Derek Hale, even if you think helping him is the right thing to do. You’ll just both get hurt.”

Stiles groaned, rubbing his hands over his eyes.

Rationally, he knew his friends were right, more than right, in fact – now he just had to convince his emotions of that fact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts, Questions, Concerns regarding the comments on the last chapter:
> 
> \- The Will-Thing: As I said in the end-note, I'm not a lawyer and I have very little knowledge about the US legal system, so I took some creative liberties ... also - spoiler - please keep in mind that Peter is a lying bastard who lies ;). 
> 
> \- Derek and his impassivity regarding his family: He's going to go through a growth progress as we reach the conclusion of the story, but when I initially thought of this story I decided to take some of the canon-behavior of our beloved characters and work with them. Canon Derek left Cora and Peter in the same room and never once mentioned any unease at the man who killed one of his sisters hanging around his other sister: ergo, Derek does not make logical decisions when it comes to his family and has a ridiculous blind-spot for Peter, so that's partly what inspired his behavior here. As I said, growth-process, and he's about to realize that baby-steps aren't going to cut it this time.
> 
> \- Derek and Stiles: You may have noticed in the tags that I added "Sterek Endgame" which I felt was necessary since there seems to be so much concern about that.  
> The thing is this: the way I see it, if Derek had told Stiles the baby was his last chapter there would not be a Sterek Endgame. 
> 
> There would be a "Stiles and Derek get their shit together and become awesome co-parents"-Endgame, for sure, but no Sterek, because in my opinion the only way a Sterek Endgame can happen after everything that happened between them at this point is if Stiles (who almost hated Derek for a bit there, unlike Derek, who never hated Stiles) genuinely falls in love with Derek again without feeling that he has to for the baby's sake. He's very conflicted when it comes to his feelings for Derek, has been doubting his sanity on that regard for months, and if he had learned the baby was his in that moment (emotions running wild due to coming fresh off of months in which he thought Derek was a spineless coward AND now seeing him so vulnerable in the hospital) he would have undoubtedly tried to make it work based just on that.  
> However, if there's one relationship-saving strategy I personally don't believe in it's the magical baby-fix - sure, that can work, and I'm not going to judge anyone who makes that decision, but I personally wouldn't and from my experience it causes even more problems 9 out of 10 times, so I didn't want to do that for this story. 
> 
> In short: have patience guys :). We're getting there, but if I don't see it happening there's no way I can write it in any way that it would be convincing, I know my limits ;). 
> 
> Love the continued enthusiasm though, I'm not gonna lie :). 
> 
>  
> 
> Next Update: Saturday/Sunday  
> Title: "A Braxton Hicks-Bump in the Road"  
> Summary: Jordan has his baby, a braxton hicks incident causes some commotion, Derek and Stiles bond over Stiles' family-history, and Malia fancies herself in love.


	16. A Braxton-Hicks-Bump In the Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jordan has his baby, a braxton hicks incident causes some commotion, Derek and Stiles bond over Stiles' family-history, and Malia fancies herself in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter answers some questions as well as raises a few new ones. 
> 
> Reminder: I don't write miscarriages, so no one freak out.
> 
> Oh, and EDIT: Malia and Cora are not at all related in this fic (I'm going to actually go ahead and call it the one big "duh" moment I had throughout writing this entire thing, because that honestly didn't even occur to me until someone pointed it out in the comments. I haven't really watched the show since 3B and that particularly storyline just ... didn't quite register in my brain. So if this squicks someone I'm really sorry, but know that they are definitely not related).

**30 Weeks**

When Stiles came home from work two days after Jordan’s due date had passed without any sign of his little daughter making her entrance into the world he was welcomed by a tired but deeply bemused Jordan and a horrified Scott who, upon seeing Stiles, squawked “Your turn!” and hightailed it out of their apartment as if he was on fire.

“Jordan? Did you traumatize my best friend with another mucus plug story?” Stiles asked sternly, though his eyes were twinkling, ducking out of the way just barely when a pillow came flying at his face.

“You _loved_ my mucus plug story, don’t even deny it. And no, I didn’t. But I’m afraid I broke Scott nevertheless. Well, technically he broke himself, but I couldn’t quite stop him, he was just too eager.”

“Do I want to know?” Stiles asked lightly, dropping down onto the couch and making a grab for Jordan’s feet without comment.

Even though the older man could have still easily hidden his condition, the minimal protrusion of his abdomen had at last turned into a little belly that could actually be called a belly in the past two weeks, which, according to Melissa, was apparently due to the fact that the baby was on the larger side of the scale and had also dropped down towards where the temporary birth canal was going to develop.

Now, with his due-date two days past, Jordan was actually starting to get a little uncomfortable, swollen feet included.

The pregnant deputy sighed contentedly, closing his eyes for a bit as Stiles worked on his feet and when he opened them again they were shining with humor.

“I was complaining about her refusal to come out earlier and Scott, bless him, decided to research labor-inducing methods. I was a little grumpy so he figured he’d search for the quickest possible method and when he realized you guys didn’t have curry or jalapenos in the apartment he – very earnestly I might add – offered himself. To me.”

Stiles’ fingers froze on Jordan’s feet, his mouth gaping wide open.

“No way!”

“Oh yeah! He already had his shirt off and was rambling about how he knew he had no idea what he was doing from that end but he’d listened to your stories and was hopeful he could find the prostate without causing me too much trauma by the time I snapped out of my stupor and stopped him.”

“You are kidding me! You must be, not even Scotty would have offered something like that!”

“Oh he offered all right! He also offered you, I might add, because he thought I was hesitant because he has no experience with men.”

“My best bro _pimped_ me out?”

Stiles was trying to hold in his laughter, he really was, but when it burst out of him he couldn’t stop himself, tears springing into his eyes as he remembered the mortified look on Scott’s face.

“You’re not going to tease him about that right? It was a really sweet offer, if a bit misguided,” Jordan said with a raised eyebrow, able to hold his composure for two seconds longer before he burst into laughter as well.

“I love Scott, I truly, deeply, love him!” Stiles decided when he could breathe again and Jordan chuckled.

“He is a dear, most definitely. Now, I love what you’re doing to my feet, but can you be a dear as well and get me a soda? I really don’t feel like getting up.”

“A soda, really? And I had a larger belly than you do now at the end of my first semester of college, so I’m not even believing you one bit right now,” Stiles replied lightly, though he jumped up nevertheless and Jordan sighed woefully, wiggling around on the couch as he tried to find a comfortable position.

“You’re the food police, you really are. I finally know what your old man has been complaining about all these years. Also, you’d be surprised how much my back has been hurting all day, I really do not want to have to get up if I have to,” he mused, accepting the soda with a chagrined smile as Stiles handed it over with a raised eyebrow.

“Need a backrub?” Stiles asked dutifully but Jordan shook his head, nodding towards the television instead.

“I know it’s a bit early for a movie night, but how do you feel about watching some really trashy horror flick? Tara claims watching a horror-movie double feature at the theater actually worked as a labor-inducer twice for her older sister and I’ve been dying to check out this one movie I got the other day with the only person I know who can really appreciate the art of terrible B-movies.”

Stiles picked up the DVD cover, frowning.

“College-kids on a road trip, a grizzly bear, and some rage? Really? _Really_? I don’t even have to watch that and I can tell you how it ends already, why would you even …”

“I like the actor, sue me,” Jordan shrugged and Stiles snorted, getting up to pop the DVD into the player.

One and a half hours later Stiles slowly turned towards Jordan, both eyebrows having long climbed to the top of his head.

“So …” he began, voice drier than even Boyd could manage and Jordan whistled, looking away innocently as the credits started rolling.

“Gratuitous shirtless scene at the end aside … what the hell kind of ending was _that_?”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about, I thought that last shot was very artistic.”

“Yes, if you learned all about art with the Windows 98 Paint Program! Seriously, these are 90 minutes of my life I will _never_ get back and if you think that Baby J will come out now, I’m afraid you are sorely mistaken! She’ll want to stay inside forever in mortification that her daddy values abs over plot!”

“Actually …” Jordan said, wincing a little as he rubbed his side, “I’m pretty sure I’ve been in labor since shortly before the shirt came off. We should probably get to the birthing center.”

Stiles gasped, then shook his head as he obviously tried to calm himself, his eyes shining nervously as he took a deep breath.

When he turned towards Jordan he was grinning, albeit a bit forced.

“Could you have said that any _less_ excitedly? Also, why does _no one_ ever say ‘It’s time!’? Movies are lying bastards that lie!”

“Alright then, if you insist: Stiles – it’s _time_!” Jordan replied testily, then winced, biting his lip as he pushed a hand against his back.

“Hey, you were the one whose birth-plan included ‘Tell Stiles to be a snarky bastard because that’ll distract me from the pain’, I’m just doing my job here! But seriously, I’m going to call a cab now. You’ve got this, Baby J will be here before you know it!”

 

===================

 

“ _Baby J will be here before you know it_! _You’ve got this Jordan_! Ha! I don’t got this! I hate this! I just want her _out_!”

“Connect with your spirit animal Jordan, I’ve told you it’ll help a thousand times now!” Malia barked in response and if Stiles hadn’t currently been busy trying to avoid being splashed with water as Jordan slammed his fists in frustration, he would have probably laughed at her indignation.

Malia had slowly but surely started losing her patience at the ten-hour mark, when Jordan, normally the sweetest of guys, had started spewing sarcastic vitriol that had put Stiles’ carefully crafted repertoire to shame in between his increasingly pained gasps and now, almost fifteen hours later, he was finally fully dilated and ready to push.

“You’re doing great Jordan, she’ll be here in a couple of pushes!” Melissa, who had arrived half an hour ago, encouraged him and Stiles, who had wrapped his arms around Jordan’s chest from behind to help hold him upright in the birthing pool, could almost feel all of his muscles tense as the man bore down, letting out yet another sailor-shaming curse.

“I don’t even _have_ a spirit animal!” Jordan panted when the contraction was over, and Malia shook her head, clucking her tongue disapprovingly.

“Everyone has a spirit animal! Even you! In fact, you strike me as a phoenix!” she decided, winking at Stiles when Jordan wasn’t looking.

Stiles winked back, grinning at her.

In the past fifteen hours they had quickly established an easy rapport and if Stiles hadn’t already given his BFF-heart away to Lydia, he would have immediately nominated Malia for the position.

He wasn’t attracted to her per se, but he could definitely appreciate her unabashed way with words.

“I’m not a stupid phoenix!” Jordan groaned, letting out a scream right after and Stiles flinched, wondering not for the first time if it could be a coincidence that research still hadn’t come up with effective pain-killers that worked during carrier births.

He somehow doubted it.

“A dragon, then! Something with fire, honestly, if looks could kill I would have already gone up in flames three times in the past hour alone!” Malia said cheerfully and Jordan huffed loudly.

“Oh who cares! Phoenix, dragon, mermaid, whatever, at this point no one actually … aaaargh!”

Malia winced in sympathy when Jordan screamed louder than ever and moved out of the way so that Melissa could check on the man’s progress.

“Almost there, Jordan! I can see the head!” she smiled and Jordan groaned, letting his head fall back against Stiles’ chest.

“I am never having sex again! Ever! This is not worth it!” he all but sobbed and Stiles wisely held his tongue as he tightened his hold across Jordan’s chest.

Malia had tried to get him to hop into the birthing pool with Jordan, arguing that it was all part of nature and the circle of life, but Stiles was perfectly happy where he was, even though his knees were starting to feel like shards of glass after kneeling on the hardwood floors for half an hour already.

“I’ll strap you into that chastity belt myself!” he promised, remembering Danny’s rather violent response to Ethan’s shocked “Awww, don’t be like that,” when he had made the same threat.

“Gaaah, no, too much … argh, _fuck_ … pressure!” Jordan panted and even though the laboring carrier, who was probably one of the least self-conscious men Stiles had ever met, had granted him blanket permission to look he couldn’t quite bring himself to do so as his friend’s daughter breached the birth canal, sharing a nervous smile with Malia instead when Melissa gently guided the baby’s shoulders out.

Jordan screamed again, almost splitting Stiles’ eardrum in the process, and then it was over, the sudden silence almost eerie for a moment before first bubbly, then strong cries filled the room.

“Jordan, meet your daughter!” Melissa declared as she placed the wailing baby on her father’s chest and Stiles immediately understood all the screaming, able to see even as a layman than Jordan’s daughter was significantly larger than Nicky, who had been a tiny, itty-bitty thing and still put his father through agony in that final pushing stage.

Not that it made her in any way less beautiful and perfect.

“She’s amazing!” he whispered, awed, and Jordan laughed, pain obviously forgotten as he cradled her with both hands.

“She’s perfect!” he said almost breathlessly and Stiles swallowed heavily, making sure that Jordan was actually supporting his own weight as he leaned back to give the new father some privacy, suddenly feeling like a little bit of an intruder.

A strong hand grasped his back and then Malia’s arm was wrapped around his waist, her head dropping onto his shoulder as they watched Jordan get acquainted with his baby girl.

“Man, I’m going to sleep for at least twelve hours,” she declared quietly and Stiles, who had gotten about two hours shortly before Jordan’s transition to active labor, chuckled.

“Make that two of us, in fact, I’m actually planning on 24 hours.”

Malia snorted, then yawned adorably.

“Gotta teach a class in 15 hours, so, sadly, 12 hours it is,” she said and Stiles, who would have loved to say that he hadn’t thought about Derek once in the past fifteen hours, especially not in relation to how Derek would handle his baby’s birth and how ridiculously right it had felt to be the one supporting him for a while in that first Lamaze class, startled.

“Oh … right. Gotta make sure Coach Cupcake isn’t freaking out,” he said and Malia chuckled.

“I have to say when I first met them I was a bit hesitant, but the pregnant one is really nice and I guess I can deal with the husband a bit longer. They’re only really there to pass the time, obviously, Melissa would probably kill me if I even suggested that they give birth naturally, but if there’s anything I can do to help with the anxiety, I’m glad to do it.”

She turned towards him an almost wicked smile on her face now.

“You know, Stiles, since we have bonded so beautifully over dear Jordan yelling bloody murder in the past 15 hours, how about you crash at my place, get some shut-eye, and then you can accompany me to class? You were really great with him and I’d love to use you as a prop,” she decided and Stiles cocked his head, smiling hesitantly.

“Uhm … I took the day off, so I guess I could? I’m flattered, but … well … you know that … uhm … that …”

“I wasn’t trying to drag you into my bed, jeez. Well, I was, technically, I only got the one, but it’s a King and we don’t even have to touch if you don’t want to. I mean, I sleep-cuddle, so there will be touching, but no bad-touching, pinky promise. I’m actually majorly crushing on someone else right now and she’ll be at class tomorrow, so don’t worry, your virtue is safe with me.”

She raised her eyebrows, grinning at him and Stiles frowned.

“Are you crushing on one of the pregnant moms? Not that I’m judging, I’m sure there are some beautiful women there, but don’t you think their baby-daddies might have a problem with that? Also, isn’t that kind of unprofessional?”

Malia scoffed.

“Do I look like a home-wrecker? Nah, though there are some pretty hot chicks in that class for sure, one was actually on the cover of _Sports Illustrated_ a couple of years ago, but I guess you wouldn’t have noticed, you were busy staring at Hale after all.”

Before Stiles could say anything she already held up her hands, shaking her head.

“I had to watch you guys, make sure you wouldn’t stage a scandal. Professional concern, that was all. Anyways, did you really think I was going to hook up with you to celebrate the circle of life or something? And I’m sorry, but I’m just going to say it: your way of letting me down gently was kind of … not smooth. Or gentle. At all.”

Stiles laughed, partly relieved and partly bitter.

“I screamed at the last person I rejected and didn’t even let him say one word in his defense. Which, knowing what I know now, I wish I hadn’t done, because he might have had something of value to say. This has not been my year for easy let-downs, that’s for sure,” he mused and Malia frowned, clearly curious.

Before Stiles, who was feeling just the right kind of emotionally worn out to spill all of his secrets to the concerned woman staring at him, could say anything Melissa clapped her hands loudly.

“Stiles! Malia! How about you come and help Jordan out of the tub while I make sure Baby J is as happy and healthy as can be?” she asked and Stiles and Malia got to work, grinning at each other when Jordan, partly back to his sweet disposition, grumbled at them for the unnecessary fuss.

“Well, it looks like I was right! Congratulations Jordan, how does it feel to have given birth to a 10-pounder on your first go-around?” Melissa asked when she placed the freshly cleaned and wrapped up baby in her waiting father’s arms twenty minutes later and Jordan snorted.

“Well, right now I want to say ‘It was fine, could do it again easily’ but I’m also pretty sure I thought I was dying about an hour ago, so let me get back to you on that when I’m not doped up on happy hormones clouding my judgment. Hey Princess,” he said softly, turning towards his baby and Stiles took a good look at her, taking in her features as she nuzzled against her father’s chest in her sleep.

“She really is gorgeous. Looks a little like …”

“The pirate. And not just a little,” Jordan finished for him, shaking his head with a smile that, Stiles noted, looked almost relieved.

“Explains a lot, he’s 7’2 after all. You’re going to be a tall one, aren’t you?” he mused, gently rocking her against him and Stiles chuckled.

“She’s going to be fierce and beautiful, for sure,” he decided and Malia, who had sat down on the edge of the bed next to Stiles, nodded.

“Does she have a name yet?” she asked and Jordan grinned.

“Well, the entire station has been referring to her as Baby J for so long I am almost inclined to call her that … not that I will, don’t you two give me that look, but, all things considered, I was thinking of going with Jonna. Jonna Marie Parrish. ”

“Jonna?” Malia asked and Jordan nodded, motioning for Stiles to hold the baby when Melissa appeared with a form that needed his signature.

“It’s a Nordic name and almost half of my family came from that region originally, so I think it’s a nice tribute. Also, it gives her a really great man as a namesake … I hope that’s ok with you Stiles, I know I should have probably asked, but …”

“Jonna? After my dad? Oh my god, wow, of course that’s fine, all the babies in the world could be named after him as far as I’m concerned! Wow, he’s going to be so honored! But I have to ask … why?”

Stiles was determined not to tear up, he really was, but when Jonna let out the most adorable sound he’d heard since Nicky had been so small he couldn’t quite help it, his eyes growing moist as he stared back and forth between the baby and her smiling father.

“Did he ever tell you how we first met?” Jordan asked and when Stiles shook his head the new father smiled wistfully.

“I was almost kicked out of the police academy a couple of years ago when someone picked a fight with me about my carrier status. Your dad prevented it. As you know it’s illegal to deny carriers police training, but I’m sure you also know that of the male law enforcement officers we have today less than 5 percent are carriers. It’s just an incredibly hostile job atmosphere for us and when I got into that fight the supervisor was on the other guy’s side, argued that if I couldn’t stand a couple of friendly taunts now I’d never make it out in the field later. Your dad was at the academy for some unrelated business, heard about it, stepped in, and not only saved me from getting kicked out but also promised me that I’d have a job waiting in Beacon Hills if I wouldn’t mind the quiet, small town life. I never regretted it and I owe him everything. So I thought there’d be no better way to honor him than by raising a child who is as principled, kind, and compassionate as him.”

“My dad is going to spoil you _rotten_. I mean, he was going to anyways, but knowing you are named after him? Yeah, baby of the year, you nailed it, and you’ve got some really tough competition with Nicky,” Stiles whispered to the baby, at a loss for what else to say.

“Thank you! I mean it. I know I lucked out in the dad-department, but it means so much to realize he’s had an impact on others, too!”

He grinned, gently handing Jonna over to Jordan when the baby began to get fussy.

“There’s only one problem though – that means we’ll have to find a good portmanteau for her and Nicky. They are obviously going to get married one day and I’m going to ship them for all they are worth, but Nonna and Jicky both sound kind of weird.”

“Glad to know you’ve got your priorities all sorted out,” Jordan chuckled and it wasn’t until later, when Stiles was staring at the life-sized picture of a coyote glaring at him from the ceiling of Malia’s bedroom, with the owner of the bed deeply asleep and indeed wrapped around him like a cuddly octopus, that he realized how ironic that statement had been.

His priorities were nowhere near sorted out … _especially_ when it came to his increasingly conflicted feelings for Derek, whom he hadn’t been able to get out of his mind at all ever since the Lamaze class, but he was working on it.

 

================

 

Derek had been in a more or less pleasant mood right until the moment he walked into the Lamaze-class with Cora and noticed Stiles, whom he had definitely not been expecting to encounter today.

Specifically, Stiles sitting cross-legged on Malia’s yoga mat, smiling at something she was saying.

They looked like they had been friends forever, smiling and laughing at each other as if they shared a special secret, and when Stiles leaned into her space close enough that if she had turned her head just right they could have started making out right then and there, Derek felt deeply upset.

Partly because of the intimacy between the two and partly because he had no idea why he had just thought along those lines and he winced, feeling like the biggest idiot on the planet for even having the audacity to feel jealous right now.

It was probably the pregnancy hormones.

“You’re glaring,” Cora whispered, and Derek tried to school his features, failing miserably.

His sister sighed, even though she was also staring at Malia and Stiles now, the expression on her face too complicated for Derek to sort out right now.

“Hey, I’m going to go grab some water from the machine outside. Any special requests?” she asked, smiling at Finstock and Greenberg as they walked to the spot next to them and Derek shook his head, feeling like he couldn’t stomach anything right now.

“Large chocolate bar it is Mr. Grumpypants,” Cora muttered before turning around and leaving for the machine, but Derek wasn’t concentrating, too caught up with looking at Stiles whispering something into Malia’s ear that caused her to burst into giggles.

“Hey Derek,” Greenberg said from his space on the floor, stomach seemingly having grown even larger in the past two weeks, which shouldn’t have been at all possible by the laws of biology, but Derek barely heard him, still staring at the two people at the front of the class.

Stiles was laughing, too, his head thrown back in that full-body-laugh that he did and Derek swallowed, feeling almost as nauseous as he had during the worst of the morning sickness.

“Whoa, man, are you alright?”

Finstock had jumped up and was staring at him in concern, all his usual snarkiness and bravado gone and replaced with genuine worry and Derek tried to nod, tried to speak, only he couldn’t, because he could already feel the bile climbing up his throat, painfully familiar with that particular sensation now.

On instinct he turned around on his heels and rushed out of the room, barely making it to the men’s room before losing his lunch.

Seconds later he heard the clicking of heels and the urgent voice of a woman, but the hand that came to rest on his back to rub soothing circles into it was too large to be that of a woman, the fingers too long, too achingly familiar, to be anyone but Stiles’.

“Derek, are you ok?” Stiles asked, sounding uncertain and a little afraid, and it took almost all he had to lift his head from the cool porcelain, feeling horribly embarrassed about the smell and the sight of his barely digested lunch.

“I’m alright, I …”

Dry heaving was the _worst_.

Derek had almost forgotten about it, but when it reared its ugly head again he cursed Stiles and his men-impregnating penis with everything he had, wanting this to just be over already.

Stiles’ hand remained on his back, the pressure comforting, and finally Derek could feel his stomach calm down, though his heart was still beating rather quickly.

 _This is what it could have been like_ , his traitorous brain told him, the inner voice loud and clear in his head.

_If you hadn’t let him go that day, if you’d tried to do the right thing he would have been there for you through all of this! Hell, he probably would have figured this out much sooner! You wouldn’t have been alone! You don’t have to be alone **now** , only you’re being a horrible, stupid, id…_

“Morning sickness?” Malia asked from behind them, shutting up his inner self-flagellation, and Derek sighed, pushing himself up on shaky legs and turning towards her, hoping his expression wasn’t as hostile as he felt inside.

“Yeah,” he answered, not willing to admit that he apparently hurled when feeling insanely jealous nowadays.

Malia looked unconvinced, but she shrugged, a look at her watch telling her that the class should have started almost two minutes ago.

“Do you want me – well, Cora – to take you home? Do you feel up for this today?” Stiles asked and Derek shook his head, figuring that there was still way too much to learn from Malia to let this unforeseen development deter him.

“No, I’m already here. It was just morning sickness, that comes and goes rather quickly. I’m fine. Let’s go back, my sister will just get worried.”

“If you’re sure,” Stiles said uncertainly, not quite touching the small of his back as he walked Derek back into the classroom but his hand still close enough for Derek to feel the phantom-heat of his touch.

Cora was already sitting on the mat, her expression anxious as she looked back and forth between Stiles and Derek, as if there was a question on the tip of her tongue she didn’t quite dare ask just yet.

“Cupcake says you stormed out like your pants were on fire. Are you ok Derek? Do we need to go back home?”

“I’m fine, it was just some nausea. I hear that’s normal even in later stages of pregnancy,” Derek said as calmly as possible, sinking down on the mat and shaking his head when Cora placed a cool palm on his forehead to check for a fever.

“I don’t have a bug,” he told her and Cora glared, muttering, “Would be just ironic enough if you actually had a bug now, when we all thought that was the problem back in February.”

Stiles cocked his head, curious, and Cora looked up at him with a frown.

“What are _you_ doing here anyways? Knocked someone up lately?”

Derek flinched, barely keeping himself from hitting his sister and simultaneously hoping he hadn’t been too obvious.

Stiles frowned deeply, clearly confused.

“What? No. Malia just discovered my hidden talent as a birthing coach and I’m here as a prop. Spare dad. Whatever, she hasn’t quite come up with a good term for me yet,” he said and Cora looked like she was about to say something potentially damaging when Malia whistled, motioning for Stiles to come join her already.

“Ooops, sorry, gotta go, duty calls. I’ll talk to you guys after class,” he said quickly and Derek absolutely didn’t read anything into the fact that Stiles turned around twice on his way to the front, the look on his face a strange mixture of embarrassed and … sadness?

“Sha-la-la-la-la-la, my, oh, my, look at this man too shy, he ain’t gonna ... _tell_ the boy,“ Cora whispered into Derek’s ear, apparently trying to break the tension – or be her usual menacing self, Derek wasn’t quite sure – but he was definitely not in the mood for this.

He stared forward stoically and after a moment Cora rested her face against his cheek, sighing softly.

“Sorry Derek. That was mean,” she whispered, leaning back before Derek could answer and so Derek stayed silent, though he grasped her hand in acknowledgment.

“Are you guys ready to get started? Stiles, get your ass over here, we’re going to do some support exercises now!” Malia’s voice rang out and even though Derek tried to focus on what she was saying, all he could see was the way Stiles’ legs were framing her, the way she was leaning back against him as if they had done this a million times before.

Cora was muttering softly behind him, repeating Malia’s instructions to herself as she tended to do when she wanted to memorize something and Derek shifted, trying to get comfortable.

There was an uncomfortable tightness in his abdomen and he rubbed at the area, trying to soothe the muscle cramp away.

“Are you ok Derek?”

Cora’s hand had joined his and Derek could tell she was worried by the tightness of her voice, a rare slip-up in Cora’s careful mask of control that told him just how on edge the entire situation had put her as well and he squeezed her hand encouragingly, not wanting to genuinely worry her.

“Yeah, just some cramping, it’ll get better when I stand up later,” he whispered back and Cora made a sound of acknowledgement, her attention back on Malia, who had switched to explaining the female birth canal now.

Derek wondered if these women truly appreciated the fact that they didn’t have to first grow the exit-strategy for their babies, a process that, the books were unanimous, was the toughest part of carrier-labor, and when his belly cramped up again he rested both hands on the spot, wincing.

“Your entire back just tensed up, are you sure you’re alright?”

Cora’s voice was strained, her fingers digging into his lower back in what she was obviously hoping would relieve part of his discomfort, but the uncomfortable sensation didn’t go away.

It was probably because he was so hyper-aware of it now, but when the sensation turned into actual pain he gasped, unable to keep it in.

“What’s happening Derek, talk to me!”

Cora’s voice had gotten louder and Derek was about to respond to her when he could feel his abdomen contract under his fingers once again, freezing him momentarily.

From one second to the next all he could think of was the number 30 and he was barely aware that his skin was growing clammy and his breathing was becoming erratic as the number repeated in his head like a nail scratching over a chalkboard.

His baby was so worryingly small at the moment that Melissa was preparing for complications for a full term birth, which was scheduled to take place in ten weeks – he could not have this baby now, not at 30 weeks, when all the signs pointed towards the child not making it through the birth.

There was no longer any oxygen in the room, or at least that’s what it felt like to him as he doubled over, eyes squeezed shut and arms wrapped around his still contracting stomach, as if that would somehow keep the baby inside.

“Derek? Holy shit, Derek, what’s going on?”

Cora’s voice was coming from a distance and Derek barely noticed the firm hands that were suddenly on his belly and feeling around, the calm, female voice that was telling him to breathe as he became more and more convinced that something was terribly, horribly wrong.

“Derek, I need you to breathe calmly, ok? This is probably just a Braxton Hicks contraction, those happen frequently towards the end of a pregnancy, you’re ok, nothing is going to happen to you or your baby.”

Derek could hear her, but he had no clue what she was saying to him, too worked up and his nerves too shattered from everything he had been through to accept any other truth than the one that the pain he was in was the signal of his tiny baby’s imminent death, caused by his failure to recognize the pregnancy sooner and his negligence, leading to the child being born prematurely right here on Malia’s yoga mat.

“Derek, please calm down!” Malia repeated and someone – Cora – was gripping his shoulder so tightly it would have hurt had he been in a position to fully be aware of anything but the pain in his midsection.

Derek shook his head, unseeing; breath coming out in short gasps now.

“Derek! Derek!”

Stiles’ voice was muffled, as if he was speaking through a mouth full of cotton … or maybe the cotton was in Derek’s ears, he wasn’t quite sure.

All he knew was that his insides were trying to turn into outsides, that he was going to lose his baby, and … that he was kissing Stiles.

Or rather, that Stiles was kissing him, both hands firmly grasping his cheeks as he pressed their lips together desperately and Derek froze, wondering if he had lost consciousness and was in a strange dream-state now, while his breathing returned to a semblance of normal.

Almost automatically his lips began moving and as he felt his focus returning he could tell that Stiles’ lips were soft, warm, and trembling against his, the desperate urgency gone and replaced with something so gentle that Derek would have almost forgotten about the pain had his muscles not chosen that moment to contract once again and remind him that his child’s life was at stake.

He let out a pained moan against Stiles’ mouth and then the lips were gone, the hands on his face moving away and trailing down his sides, before an arm was firmly hooked around his back while the other went to secure his legs.

“It’s really probably just Braxton Hicks, there is no need for panic everyone,” Malia said, her tone a little exasperated now, but when Derek looked at Stiles the man’s expression mirrored the same panic he was feeling, coupled with determination.

“And if it’s not I’m _not_ going to be the one responsible for not having gotten him to the hospital in time! We’re going!” Stiles said tensely, glaring at an exasperated Malia and Cora, who seemed to be torn between worry and something that looked like resigned amusement.

Derek was about to protest when he realized the man’s intentions, but before he could open his mouth there was more pain, shutting off all conscious thought.

The agonized whimper he produced instead was apparently enough to give Stiles all the motivation he needed as he unceremoniously lifted Derek into a bridal carry.

“Too heavy for you, you’ll drop me!” Derek gasped, holding on to Stiles broad shoulders for dear life and the younger man shook his head, the words coming out through his teeth as he gritted, “Not as wimpy as I probably look to you, Derek!”

His grip on him was firm and Derek tried to relax as much as he could, aware that him tensing would just make this harder for Stiles and just as he was about to wonder if Stiles planned to take a cab or carry him all the way to the subway station Cora and Malia were at their side, the latter fumbling with a key-ring.

“My car is over there. Class was almost over anyways so I let them all go early, but so help me god, if you and your panic-induced heroics just freaked out a bunch of expectant mothers and that already infuriatingly nervous Cupcake with his quintuplet-carrying husband for nothing, I’m coming for your balls Stilinski!”

Stiles didn’t respond, his mouth tightening as he lowered Derek onto the backseat of the car, where Cora wrapped her arms around him immediately, her tone soothing as she stroked through his hair over and over.

They probably looked like quite the odd group, Derek thought as they rushed into the ER, Cora and Stiles both supporting him, while Malia was briskly marching in front of them, already barking for Melissa McCall’s presence.

After making sure that Stiles had a good grip on him Cora entangled herself, her voice snappy as she answered the admitting nurse’s questions, then Stiles was helping him onto a gurney, the lines around his mouth still tight as Derek doubled over once again.

“Stiles,” he whispered, not even thinking about how surreal the entire situation was and almost jumping out of his mind in shock when Stiles grabbed his hand and held on tightly, long thumb stroking soothing circles into Derek’s skin.

“It’ll be fine Derek, it’ll all be just fine. Your baby is going to be just fine!”

Then Melissa McCall was in his vision, her face calm and the touch of her hand cool against his cheek.

She was asking questions and Malia and Cora were talking in the background, but all Derek could focus on was Stiles, the way he was gripping Derek’s hand as if he was just as scared as he was that something bad was about to happen to their baby.

 _Their_ baby.

Tears were pooling in Derek’s eyes at the realization that the baby might be dying right now and Stiles had never even gotten a chance to know it was his.

The truth was on the tip of his tongue, the words no longer as heavy as they had been before, but before he could blurt them out another wave of pain rushed over him, causing him to grip Stiles’ hand so tightly that he heard the other man hiss in pain.

Suddenly there seemed to be a commotion, the flash of a camera, then Stiles was ripping his hand away from Derek and next he heard the younger man was snarling angrily, while Cora and Malia were shouting something.

There was a crunching sound, the voice of a man yelling something about suing, and then Stiles’ hand was back, voice angry as the man muttered something about, paparazzi, hospitals, and illegal.

Derek couldn’t have cared less, too focused on the pain, even though it seemed to be receding now, the tight sensation around his entire abdomen not nearly as bad as before.

They had somehow moved him from the hallway into an exam room without him noticing in his agitated state and Derek’s brain didn’t come fully back online until the could feel the familiar cooling sensation on his skin as Melissa prepped him for an ultrasound.

Terrified, Derek held his breath, not prepared for the sound of a flat line flittering over the monitor.

Only that wasn’t the sound he was hearing, he realized with a start, more tears shooting into his eyes when he recognized the whooshing, reassuring sound of the baby’s heartbeat.

“Are you fully back with us, Derek?” Melissa asked gently and he nodded, blinking a couple of times to focus his eyes on the screen.

There it was, his tiny baby, moving just like it should be, and when Stiles let out a shaky, relieved laugh next to him Derek couldn’t help but look at him fondly, though the guilt was almost overwhelming now.

Stiles’ face was full of wonderment as he looked at the screen without a care in the world, not only unaware that he was still gripping Derek’s hand but also that what he was seeing was a baby who was still very much at a high risk of birth complications.

His expression was making him look much younger and more vulnerable than he was and when he smiled at Derek the pregnant man had to actually bite his lip to keep quiet, to not blurt out just how terrified he was.

“It definitely looks like you,” Stiles whispered as he slowly tugged his hand out of Derek’s grip, apparently having realized what he was doing and trying to use humor to break the tension.

Derek turned his head towards the screen, wondering if the child would in fact look like him or whether he or she would have Stiles’ nose, his mouth, his eyes, or even his moles.

He suddenly hoped the child would inherit the man’s beauty marks.

If it lived, that was.

“As Malia was saying, Derek, this was just a Braxton Hicks contraction. It’s good that you came here to make sure, as you know It would have been much too early to give birth just yet, especially … but you’re doing fine.”

Melissa was looking at him apologetically, apparently having realized that she had been about to share confidential information and Derek shook his head quickly, hoping she understood that he didn’t want Stiles, Cora, and Malia to know about the baby’s situation.

There was a frown on the doctor’s face but she turned back towards the screen, taking a closer look at the child.

“Well, Derek, you’re not in labor and I can tell just from looking that you are in much better physical shape now than you were when we first admitted you. I’ll have Stiles and your sister take you home, you don’t need to stay here, but I am going to give you a pamphlet about Braxton Hicks contractions so you’ll know what to expect next time. They’ll be returning frequently now, but you don’t have to worry, this is all normal.”

She turned towards Stiles, shaking her head in fond amusement.

“I’m surprised to see you looking so rattled Honey, after all, you watched Danny go through quite a few of these,” she said and Stiles blushed.

“That was different,” he muttered, barely audibly, and Derek held his breath, not even daring to wonder what could possibly be different about this.

Not even thinking about the kiss that had effectively stopped his panic attack.

Cora let out a loud huff and when Derek turned towards her there were angry tears in her eyes.

“Don’t ever do that again! You scared the _shit_ out of me! No more drama, alright? We’ve had enough drama to last us a life-time at this point!” she exclaimed, bending over so that her lips were almost touching his exposed skin when she whispered, “The same goes for you baby, because Aunt Cora loves you to the moon and back and she’ll be _pissed_ if something happens to you!”

When she straightened up again she looked exhausted.

“I need some coffee. Or a drink. Or both. Possibly at the same time, I’m undecided,” she said and Melissa nodded.

“That sounds like a good idea. The three of you can go get some coffee and I’ll finish up with Derek here. I might as well do a full examination while I have him here, to make sure everything is going fine, and when he’s done you guys can take him home.”

Neither Cora, nor Stiles looked particularly happy at the thought of leaving him, but Malia wrapped her arms around both of their shoulders, gently steering them out the door and muttering something about “best coffee in this hospital, though of course it still tastes like acid.”

When they were gone, Melissa once more placed the probe on his abdomen, staring intently at the screen, and Derek held his breath, hoping that after all this excitement he would at least get to hear some good news about his baby.

After what felt like an eternity Melissa finally turned towards him with a smile.

“Well, whatever you’re doing, keep doing it. We are still not quite over the critical 10 percentile threshold yet, but your baby is now measuring around the 7 percentile as opposed to 5, so we’re well on our way.”

“It’s been almost a month and I spent almost all of it lying around and relaxing … shouldn’t there be more progress?” Derek asked, trying to decide whether he should feel relieved or frustrated that he hadn’t been able to do more and Melissa patted the back of his hand with a soft shake of her head.

“Even if we can get your baby up to a normal birth weight, it’s probably still going to be pretty small. Some babies are just tinier than others, but progress is always good. You were under ridiculous amounts of pressure for more than half of your pregnancy, that doesn’t just go away in three weeks,” she said softly, turning back towards the screen as she began to point out the baby’s legs, arms, and head, as well as the heartbeat, which was still as strong and steady as when he had first been admitted.

Derek stared at the screen, transfixed, almost overwhelmed by the movement that he could both feel and see now and when Melissa asked, “Would you like to know the gender? I’ve got a pretty clear view here,” he startled, realizing he had never actually given that matter much thought.

“I can write it down on a piece of paper and put it in an envelope if you want to know later,” Melissa said, clearly reading him correctly and Derek thought about it, then shook his head.

“No. It doesn’t matter and I don’t want to … I don’t want to become too …”

“Attached?”

Melissa’s eyes were sad when she looked at him, though he could also see some understanding on her face.

“Listen Derek, I understand you’re scared. Most expecting carriers and women are; it’s normal. But you can’t cling to the idea that only bad things are going to happen to you, it’s simply not healthy. Fear and anxiety are not going to help your baby grow and if you want to try and make even more of a difference here, you need to allow yourself to be happy. Look forward to the day when you can hold your baby for the first time, enjoy these last weeks of your pregnancy, because these are precious moments that you are not going to get back. Don’t make this even harder on yourself than it already is.”

She was right, Derek knew she was, but when she asked him if he wanted to know his baby’s gender for the second time he declined politely but firmly.

Every surprise connected to his pregnancy so far had been a bad one, some more terrifying than others, and he was ready to finally experience a nice one.

 

===================

 

“So … your sister and Malia bailed on us,” Stiles greeted him when Derek walked out of the exam room, wiggling the keys to Malia’s car with a hesitant half-smile.

“What?” Derek asked, pulling out his cell phone to check for a message from Cora and frowning when he saw he had three.

**_Pulled straws to see who had to drive you home and who could get smashed to cope with the trauma of this afternoon. Baby-Daddy lost._ **

**_Might have rigged the straw._ **

**_Tell him Derek. Just tell him._ **

 “I see,” he said slowly and Stiles sighed as he got up, stretching with a yawn and wincing slightly at a twinge in his back.

“I tried telling her you might not appreciate this but your sister thought we needed a bonding moment after all this mess. Malia agreed and there was nothing I could do against their combined powers. I’m sorry Derek, I can call you a cab if you want.”

His sister was evil and Derek was going to kill her. He sighed, feeling incredibly tired all of a sudden.

“Alright. I appreciate it; I know you don’t have to do this. You don’t have to carry me to the car though, if you were worrying,” he said and Stiles chuckled.

“Not subtle enough, hmm?” he asked, rubbing at his back ruefully and Derek shrugged, motioning for him to lead the way out to the parking lot.

“I’m sorry,” he said and Stiles shook his head with a soft snort.

“Please, it was my fault for – how did Malia put it – displaying overdramatic heroics. I mean, it’s not like I didn’t know how much you already weighed before the addition of the baby and while that’s rather pleasurable in certain situation I wasn’t … uhm … shutting up now.”

He was staring at the ground as he walked, his neck splotchy red in his embarrassment and Derek sighed again, wondering if the ease they had initially had between them would ever come back.

If Stiles would ever joke with him again after learning how long he had lied to him.

 

===================

 

The walk to the car and the drive back to his loft were downright awkward.

Stiles kept looking at him as he was driving, his gaze confused, as if he didn’t quite know why he couldn’t take his eyes off of him, but Derek didn’t know what he could possibly say to the man without causing him to crash the car in shock, the list of things he needed to tell him simply too explosive to spring on him while he had to concentrate.

Stiles hovered behind him as they walked into the apartment building and when they reached his door he faltered, stepping from one foot to the other while biting his lip.

Derek wanted him to be gone, but at the same time he didn’t want him to go, still feeling too open and exposed after the experience in the hospital.

Besides, Stiles had been unbelievably helpful and caring, he deserved at least a drink.

“Do you want a coffee or something? I’m really thankful for all of your help today and I would like to return the favor at least a little?”

Stiles looked torn, gaze flitting between Derek and the interior of the loft and suddenly it occurred to Derek how awkward this must be for him, given he had last been here during their consequential one-night stand.

“I’m sorry, this is probably awkward. I can …”

“No, no, it’s fine, I’m good. And besides, Mama McCall told me to make sure you got some rest after all that excitement so I might as well keep you company a little. I know how to use a Keurig, so if you just tell me where your tea is I can make some for you and you can go and rest your back a little,” Stiles said quickly and Derek nodded, not sure how to feel about Stiles moving so comfortably in his space but definitely enjoying the relief of resting on the comfortable armchair.

Stiles smiled hesitantly when he handed Derek a steaming mug of tea and for a while they sat in surprisingly comfortable silence, both men feeling too worn from the emotional toll the day had taken on them to have much more energy for awkwardness.

The baby’s movements were gentle, too, as if it was aware that Derek needed a bit of break and not an organ-pounding, but his shirt was thin enough for the movements to become visible, a little feet or hand pushing out against Derek’s skin, making it look as if there was a restless knob moving around under his shirt.

He trailed his fingers along the movement, feeling relieved that the baby was clearly doing ok and when he looked up Stiles was watching him with a gentle smile, his cheeks blushing when noticed he had been caught staring.

“You look a lot better you know,” he said, eyes blinking rapidly as if he was internally face-palming himself for having spoken at all and Derek shrugged, his own smile almost shy.

“I am doing a lot better. Melissa’s been very clear about how I’m supposed to take care of myself and Cora’s been her enthusiastic enforcer. My sister’s foot rubs are about as pleasant as being caught in a bear trap, but she’s trying and that’s all that matters.”

Stiles chuckled, the blush receding at Derek’s extended olive-branch.

“Good, I’m glad. Well, not about Cora mangling your feet, but that you’re doing better. Cora and Erica have been rather hush-hush about the details to respect your privacy, but from what I gather you didn’t quite catch on to all of this happening until the baby started moving, right? I’m glad that nothing happened before that moment that would have harmed your baby … really, _really_ glad,” he said, voice turning into an almost-whisper at the end and Derek sat his tea-cup down with a sigh, leaning forward a little to prompt Stiles to look at him.

“We’ve talked about this before, Stiles. I was out of line in that bathroom and you had every right to push me away,” he said, guessing correctly why Stiles was suddenly looking like the world was coming to an end and the younger man exhaled loudly, scratching at his neck with a wince.

“You have no idea how often I have replayed that moment in my mind ever since I found out you were having a baby. Here I am, blabbering on about protecting carriers and their children and then I go and almost cause you to have a miscarriage! I couldn’t have lived with myself if something had …”

“Nothing happened, so there’s really no use in talking about it or thinking about it ever again,” Derek said gently, smiling encouragingly at Stiles when the other man sighed.

“You say that like it’s easy, but I don’t think I’ll ever forget that look on your face,” he mused quietly and Derek sighed, not really sure what else to say.

Stiles looked like he was struggling with something and Derek had just picked up his mug again when the other man obviously came to a decision, blurting out, “Did you ever wonder why I’m so passionate about carrier rights?” so suddenly that Derek, who’d been wondering how he could possibly bring up the topic of the baby’s paternity without causing Stiles to keel over, almost burnt his tongue.

“Uhm … because you’re a good man?” he said, taken aback, and Stiles laughed almost bitterly.

“Some would argue about that. I mean, I like to think I am but, I’ve made some pretty dumb decisions here lately,” he said softly, shaking his head before he looked at Derek again, expression determined now.

“No, it’s not that. At least not just that. I … ok, promise me you won’t tell anyone about this, this is not information meant for the public, but I feel like I need to explain some things to you so we can start making sense of the clusterfuck that these last few months have been. I want to make sense of them Derek, don’t ask me why, maybe it’s stupid and senseless but … I don’t ever want to fight with you again. Cora is one of my best friends, you know. She’s part of my life for good and that means that you will be, too, and I just … I want us to be ok. We don’t have … I just want us to be ok. And for that you need to know some things. About my family.”

“Is this about what happened today?” Derek asked, almost shocked at how hurt he felt all of a sudden and Stiles shook his head firmly.

“This is not a pity-talk, Derek. This is an I-was-an-ass-to-you talk and I want to start making things right. We got off on so many wrong feet, which is just ridiculous, because that first foot was so damn good and well, I can’t help but wonder how things would have been if I’d … if we’d … I should have given you the chance to explain. Back in January. I didn’t, and that was wrong, but what happened to Danny was just so … I need to explain why I couldn’t react differently back then. But I have to trust you here, real trust this time. What I’m about to say you cannot repeat to anyone, and I really do mean anyone. Can I trust you?”

“You can trust me,” Derek said, hating himself for it but desperate to finally get some answers to the questions he hadn’t dared to ask for so long.

Stiles took a deep breath, kneading his suddenly shaking fingers together.

“My dad’s a carrier.”

“ _What_? Really?” Derek exclaimed, having expected anything but this and Stiles’ expression hardened slightly.

“Why, because a Sheriff can’t be a carrier, just like big, muscular, bearded, super-manly men can’t be carriers?” he asked testily and Derek held up his hands, muttering “Sorry,” in apology.

Stiles sighed.

“I get it. Believe me, I do. It’s ok. I’m used to it, there’s only a few people who know and they basically all reacted like you just did. Glorious times we live in, right?”

“How can your dad be a carrier? He’s a _sheriff_. No one would have ever appointed a carrier to be a sheriff!” Derek asked; his mind still boggling over the news and Stiles chuckled humorlessly.

“That’s the part where I have to trust you to keep quiet. My dad was tested back when they were in the beginning stages of the law-mandated testing and back then they were only using the blood-test, which, being in its initial stages, was inconclusive more often than not. Caused plenty of unwanted carrier pregnancies back in the late 70s and when the back-alley abortion complication-rate skyrocketed the government changed the testing to ultrasound plus blood test, as well as completely re-doing the entire thing until it was basically foolproof. But my dad got issued a Non-Carrier ID and never had any reason to suspect otherwise. That was until he ran for the sheriff’s position 17 years ago and they brought in a psychologist from the city to assess his mental health, as well as a state-licensed physician to perform a full physical. Standard procedure I guess.

My dad was in the middle of the psych test when the doctor who had examined him stumbled in and pulled the shrink outside. Dad says she looked really rattled and he sat there waiting for five minutes, wondering what in the world could have possibly happened. Then they came back and together they carefully explained to my startled father that he had been the proud owner of a fully functioning uterus for all of his life. Now, the normal procedure would have been to write up an official report, declare him as one of those testing-mishaps from the 70s, issue him a new ID and essentially have him withdraw from the election. It would have come out sooner rather than later and with the way things are his life might have even been in danger, being a carrier in that position. Only, in a rare, one in a million turn of events, that’s not what happened at all.”

Stiles looked at Derek intently, as if to gage his reaction, before he continued.

“Just before the doctor had barged inside the psychologist, whose name I don’t know because my dad always kept that under wraps to protect him, had asked how my father would have handled a carrier-deputy on the force and well, my father, from what he tells me, had gone off on an angry rant that that was even a question. Turns out, that psychologist really shared the sentiment. And luckily, so did the doctor. When my father left for home that day he was still registered as a Non-Carrier, the ultrasound recording had been deleted, and his psychological evaluation identified him as a man more than qualified to lead. My dad became Sheriff, cleaned up the most vicious anti-carrier-factions in the station right as his first executive order, and he’s been protecting the town ever since. Beacon Hills County has the highest number of carrier law enforcement officers in the state, fifth-highest in the whole country, actually, if you go by percentages, and it was all made possible because a doctor and a psychologist were willing to go against the rules because they were doing what they thought was right.

However, it was highly illegal and that’s why I’ve never even so much as hinted towards it ever since I became the face of the ERC. The psychologist died a couple of years ago, at least that’s what my dad says, but the doctor is still practicing and my dad is protecting her as well as his carrier-deputies by staying silent, because if my dad were to lose his job people like Jordan would … well … you can imagine what could happen if a carrier-phobic cop gets partnered with a carrier-cop.”

He sighed, taking a sip of his coffee.

“My dad would love to make it public one day, if only to tell the world that that yes, they had a male carrier protecting their county for almost two decades and it didn’t make a damn difference, but he’d go to prison for it and maybe it’s selfish but I don’t think he deserves that, not even for the cause!” he said, voice getting louder towards the end and Derek, who would have never expected this explanation, stared at him.

“Wow. I don’t even know what to say right now. I … I won’t tell. I promise you, I won’t tell anyone.”

Stiles nodded, his tense expression relaxing somewhat as he leaned back against the backrest of the sofa.

“In case you were wondering, I’m definitely not a carrier, my parents had me tested twice, just to make sure,” he said and Derek frowned, taking a sip of his tea and swirling it around in his mouth before he answered.

“Why would you have been one? Doesn’t the gene normally skip a generation or two?” he asked and Stiles shrugged.

“Well, considering my grandfather carried my mom and I get it from both sides of the family the odds were higher for me than most,” he said, almost casually, though he was watching Derek carefully, and Derek’s eyes flew wide-open, almost choking himself on his tea as he sputtered.

“Hold on, _what_? Your _grandfather_? But that would have been in the 50s … wow,” he finally got out and Stiles scoffed.

“Wow is not quite the word I would choose for the way carriers were treated by society in the 50s. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I think the way they are treated is horrible now, which you are very well aware of, but I think some of them don’t even realize just how much worse it could be and how far we’ve already come, even though it’s not nearly enough.”

Derek stared at him, almost afraid to ask but suddenly very curious and Stiles took another sip of his coffee, a gesture that, Derek was quickly realizing, was a calming method for him.

“My mom died when I was 14 and so I’m not sure I ever heard the whole story, she probably left out some of the more gruesome parts for my benefit and I never asked Dad, but the gist of it is already bad enough.”

Another sigh; this time almost inaudible.

“My dziadek – that’s what I grew up calling him, by the way – was a very handsome, almost beautiful man when he was younger … well, he was handsome when he was older, too, but his experiences left their toll on him, there was always something strained edged into his features, as if he was just waiting for the next blow, never quite believing it would ever be over. That’s not the point but I feel like mentioning it because so much anti-carrier propaganda calls carriers pretty boys, you know? He would have been the perfect example for all of their posters, with his dark blue eyes, gold-blond hair, insanely long eye-lashes – the only thing I got from him, by the way – and built like a Greek statue. Less muscle than you and I’m sure Boyd could have squashed him with his little toe, but definitely defined. He was a swimmer and a runner, so he had those broad shoulders and very slim waist, and before the beginning of his Senior year in High School he went to a swim camp, which I imagine would have been a very tempting experience for anyone who is appreciative of the male physique and a hormonal teenager.

Dziadek was always extremely popular, he had a bit of an Alpha personality I want to say almost, and there were many young men at that camp who wanted him. _Had_ him, in fact, which is why my mom never knew her other father, so there’s another checkmark you can make in the ‘This is what all carriers do’ column. They didn’t have standardized testing back then and since it was decades before anyone ever heard of AIDS men didn’t really think about having unprotected sex with each other. Of course everyone knew there _were_ carriers, but it was such a taboo topic that no one had ever actually met one, let alone a pregnant one, as, I’m sure you know, those were either sent to live at ‘boarding school’ or had to go through horrendously illegal procedures to solve the ‘problem’.”

Stiles grimaced and Derek did as well, not even wanting to imagine having to go through something like that.

“Anyway, Dziadek came back from the swim meet at the beginning of August and started his Senior year as class president and captain of the swim team, just like everyone had expected. By the beginning of September his performance on the team was really suffering because he was always exhausted, by the end of September he was throwing up daily and, thanks to the slim swimmer-waist situation, he started showing by October, once the puking had finally stopped. Which was really early, mind you, but he carried my mom very low and there simply wasn’t any room for her in his pelvis region to stay hidden for too long. His co-captain’s brother had been a carrier, coincidentally, so he realized what was going on and went to the principal. Dziadek was extremely smart and had done some research on what could have possibly caused the constant nausea and he put two and two together quickly after that, so he didn’t even try to deny it when he was found out. Of course then all hell broke lose.”

He smiled grimly and Derek averted his eyes, feeling his ears burning once again at what Stiles _hadn’t_ said, the unspoken question of “How could you not realize this for _five_ months” that had been in his eyes when Derek had first admitted it to him.

“Hey … hey, Derek,” Stiles said softly, and when he looked up the younger man was kneeling in front of him, hands lightly touching his knees.

“I didn’t mean it like that ok? I don’t think you’re stupid. You had a state-approved assurance that you weren’t a carrier, no one would have realized what was going on before the baby’s first movement,” he said and Derek shrugged, not really sure what to say to that.

Stiles gave his knees another squeeze before he moved back to the couch and when he continued his story his expression had hardened again.

“As I said, I don’t think Mom told me everything, but they basically pulled Dziadek out of class, herded him to the school nurse and forced him to strip down in front of the principal, his swim coach, and his parents, who had been called to the school that morning. His mother was crying and his father was apparently white with fury and not even able to speak so they did nothing as their only son got poked, prodded, and humiliated. They even forced him to bend over so they could … uhm … examine his entrance to see how many men he had slept with … as if you could have been able to tell, even right after! Once they were finally convinced that there was, in fact, a child inside of him the nurse gave my great-grandparents the number of some ‘doctor’ – I use the term facetiously – who had a practice specializing in abortion and sterilization, two in one procedure, basically. From what I understand that procedure apparently involved the removal of the entire uterus with the baby still inside and Dziadek didn’t … oh shit, sorry, do you want me to stop?”

Derek shook his head quickly, rubbing one hand across his eyes angrily to wipe away the tears that had formed in the corners and Stiles nodded towards his other arm wrapped around his belly protectively, his expression almost fond.

“Exactly. That’s how Dziadek felt. Don’t get me wrong, I’m absolutely and irrevocably pro-choice, no doubt about it, but if your choice is to _have_ the baby then no one should be able to tell you not to and with male carriers that was a common occurrence back then. There was a lot of screaming and pleading, but when Dziadek went home that day he had been kicked out of school, enrolled in a boarding school where no one would know what he had been through, and he had an abortion appointment for the next morning. Well, he would have, if he hadn’t snuck out of his bedroom window that night with only a small backpack in which he had stuffed as much money as he had been able to find in the house. He didn’t bother with clothes, figured that he’d soon have to replace them anyways, so he only packed the essentials.”

Stiles smiled, looking proud, and Derek could sympathize.

“He didn’t talk much about what happened after but if my mom is to be believed I can be lucky he managed to carry her to term, considering he lived on the streets for most of the pregnancy. He couldn’t stay anywhere for too long, tried to make some money with waiter jobs but well, he _was_ slim-waisted, my mom was a big baby and it might have been a taboo topic then but the people he worked for were always smart enough to catch on to the fact that his belly was simply growing too quickly for him to be anything but pregnant. The same went for landlords. He was also beaten up on the streets multiple times, spat at, insulted, women often pulled their children away from him as if their boys could catch the carrier-disease just by looking at him. Dziadek was from California originally but by the time he went into labor he had made it all the way to New York City, which was lucky for him, because there were enough hospitals here for him to find one that actually took him in. Can you imagine that Derek? Being in excruciating pain, bleeding from a temporary birth canal, and stumbling into ER after ER, only to be told you’re an abomination and have to leave? He was almost fully dilated by the time he collapsed in front of the fifth hospital and thank god a doctor who also had a carrier-son and loved his carrier-born grandchildren deeply was currently taking a smoke break. My mom was born 45 minutes later, happy and healthy as can be. She got her name from that doctor, by the way … well, not technically, his name was Thurston Smellington and there’s just no way to turn that into something beautiful for a girl, but Dziadek was so grateful that he asked what he would have named a daughter. Apparently that doctor had always wanted a little Claudia, but neither of his sons was willing to give him a Claudia granddaughter, so Dziadek figured he’d do him the honor.”

Stiles smiled softly as he thought about his mother as a baby and it made Derek ache when he imagined Stiles looking at _their_ baby like that.

“He was only 17 years old, a couple of months shy of turning 18, and he had this tiny human being to take care of, but Dziadek finally caught a break when Doctor Smellington called in every favor he knew of and managed to organize him a tiny flat, the essential baby-supplies, and even some money so he’d have something to live on while Mom was still too dependent on him. He and his wife became his parents in a way, even though they had their own children and grandchildren to spoil and couldn’t be there all the time. But Dziadek was very lonely and because he was forced to register as a carrier after he’d had Mom he was never able to find a well-paying job … not to mention that he didn’t even have a High School degree, you know. They got by, but they didn’t have much and my mom grew up watching her father being humiliated all the time. It didn’t matter where how much they tried to keep it quiet, there was apparently something about them that made it obvious to everyone who met them that Dziadek had carried Mom. Don’t ask me how that’s possible, but Mom says it always came out eventually. Dziadek shielded a lot of the hate from her, but she witnessed enough. Enough for her to only agree to go out on a date with my dad after he’d sufficiently proven to her that he thought carriers deserved the same rights as everyone. Thankfully my dad is an amazing man and didn’t even need to know about his own uterus to have his priorities straight!”

Stiles grinned, his eyes shining with so much love for his family that it made Derek almost breathless.

“But to make this really long story short, that’s why I’m so strict when it comes to the rights of male carriers. Why it’s so personal for me that it’s sometimes hard not to lose my head, you know? When I stormed out of your office that day and started applying for jobs as soon as I got home I was upset about Danny, obviously, but all I could think of were the stories my mom had told me about Dziadek, all that pain and fear, just because he was bringing the most amazing woman I have ever known into the world. And then I couldn’t stop thinking about my dad; how I would have felt knowing that someone had done the same to him. Because it could have been the same, if things had happened differently, and trust me Derek, I saw the look in Dziadek’s eyes the one time he actually talked about it to me … I would hunt down every single person on Earth who’d cause my own father to look like that!”

Derek swallowed, feeling guilty as he thought about Danny, and Stiles’ expression softened again.

“I didn’t mean it that way Derek … well, I _did_ mean it that way, I guess, but I’m not angry at you, just at your company in general. Erica and Cora tried to tell me for months you weren’t as carrier-phobic as the role you were forced to play and I wanted to believe them so badly but … I don’t know, the thought of someone who thinks like me but acts like you was … hard to swallow. Too hard, maybe. And then you’d go and say stupid shit like during that one debate, the one where I grabbed your note cards.”

He looked a little guilty now and Derek braced himself, wondering what was going to come next.

“My mom died of cancer when I was 14, and my dziadek was still alive, so he actually had to sit through people telling him that her having gotten so sick was because of him, because his male uterus had somehow altered her genes, made them bad, made them imperfect. My dziadek went through hell for my mom, loved her with everything he had, gave up almost his entire life for her and never met another partner, so it was always just the two of them until my dad and then later me came along. To be told that he had been the cause for the agonizing death of the one true love of his life … well … he died six months after her and you know how they say you can’t die of a broken heart and that it’s all metaphorical? I disagree. Because I saw it happen. So when you pulled that ‘carrier babies have more health problems’-card I just … I saw Dziadek’s face when the attending nurse asked him if he was proud of what he’d done when he came to see Mom in her final hours and I just snapped.”

Derek’s eyes widened, once again tearing up as he imagined what Stiles’ grandfather must have felt like, the thought not too hard to imagine based on his own fears for his baby’s safety.

Again, Stiles was on his knees in front of him, large palms resting on his thighs this time and squeezing gently.

“Don’t Derek. Please don’t. You didn’t know. And based on what I know now, I wonder how you even made it through that debate at all, having just found out you were having your own carrier-baby and were essentially fighting against your own rights with me! You’re brave that you tried to hide Honey Bunny for as long as you did, just like my dziadek,” he said softly and Derek shook his head, biting his lips.

“I’m afraid I’m not at all like your dziadek,” he muttered and Stiles clucked his tongue, considering.

“That’s true … because you actually have people around you who support you and – and I say this as a person who knows Erica and Cora quite well – people who deeply love you.”

 _Except you,_ Derek thought bitterly, internally shaking his head at himself for being an idiot.

Stiles was staring up at him with an open, almost hopeful expression and Derek looked at his hands, unsure how to proceed.

“Can I … can I ask you something?” he asked, deciding to steer the conversation back to safer waters and not the people who loved Derek and Stiles squeezed his thighs encouragingly, nodding quickly.

“Why would you not tell that story? Your dziadek’s, I mean? It’s quite powerful,” Derek asked carefully and Stiles sighed.

“If someone came up to you and told you “We want to give you the power to make a difference, but in order for you to do that we need you to lay bare the deepest, most profound pain your mother has ever felt in her life, the kind of pain that changes who you are and haunts you until your dying day” … would you do it? Without being able to get her consent because she’s no longer with us? Would you do it, if you knew you didn’t necessarily have to?”

Derek blinked, considering.

“No. I guess not. Not if I didn’t know for sure that’s what she would have wanted.”

Stiles nodded.

“Exactly. Dziadek spoke to me about this _once_. Only one time, just after my mother had died and he was going out of his mind with grief. That pain was with him every day and he couldn’t bear talking about it … I told you this because I think he would have sympathized with you, he wouldn’t have minded if you knew. But to parade it in front of all these anti-carrier hateful bigots? No. My mother was the most beautiful, perfect woman I’ve ever known and yes, I’m biased, but she was a princess to me … and to my dad. The thought of someone sullying her memory and that of my dziadek’s is just … it’s too painful.”

He shrugged, looking up at Derek earnestly.

“I can be selfish Derek, I’m not going to hide it. The cause is important to me and I want to believe I would have been so passionate about it even without my family history, but I …”

He exhaled slowly, smiling softly.

“I’m not strong enough to risk the pain of people dancing on my mom’s grave. Which is what would happen, maybe not literally, but metaphorically, and losing her was bad enough, I can’t even imagine what that would do to me _or_ my dad.”

Derek didn’t even hesitate when he reached for Stiles’ hands, still loosely resting on his thighs, and held them tightly, hoping that the man would accept comfort from him.

Stiles stared at him with wide eyes but he didn’t pull away and as the silence stretched out and Derek became more and more aware of the warmth of Stiles’ hands in his, the weight of them on his legs, he remembered what he had felt like that morning after, when Stiles had skipped out of his loft and he had been left wondering if he had just met someone really special.

Whatever it had been that had made him feel that way was still there, there was no doubt about it.

The only question was if it would survive the news of their baby’s parentage.

He was startled out of his thoughts when Stiles shifted on the floor, an apologetic grimace on his face as he tugged his hands out of Derek’s and stood up, rubbing at his knees.

“Sorry, I spent a lot of time kneeling the other day and I … whoa, no, that came out wrong! Jordan had his daughter yesterday and I was there for the birth. He had her in one of these fancy pools and I had to kneel outside to offer my patented Stilinski-charm of support. Baby Jonna came out just fine but my knees will need some serious recovery time,” he said and Derek chuckled nervously, wondering if the perfect moment for the truth had just come and gone.

“Is she alright? The baby?”

Stiles beamed.

“Oh yeah! All 10 pounds of her! We’re pretty sure her other father is the one who’s over seven feet tall, so she’s going to grow up to be an Amazonian warrior princess for sure!” Stiles said and Derek smiled, remembering the joy on the face of the nice deputy from Beacon Hills and feeling genuinely happy for him, even if he couldn’t quite stifle the burst of despair that went through him when he wondered if his own baby would even manage half of that birth weight.

Something else Stiles had said poked at his mind however, and Derek, desperate to think about something else, raised his eyebrows, looking at Stiles with an amused expression.

“ _Honey Bunny_?” he asked, and Stiles blushed.

“I’m sorry. I have a tendency to assign ridiculous nicknames to every pregnant belly around me. It’s a habit I’m trying to break. I once wished a man in his mid-thirties and his ‘pumpkin’ a good day on the subway and was informed that the dude just liked beer a whole lot. This exchange of information occurred through the usage of fists on his part and a bloody nose on my part. So yeah, trying to break the habit, and I’ll stop calling it Honey Bunny if you want me to, it’s not really my place anyways. It’s just that you have the cutest little bunny-teeth and I am just willing to bet your baby is going to inherit those,” he explained sheepishly.

 _Tell him, just go ahead and tell him, this is as good an opening as you’re going to get_ , Derek’s internal voice urged him, sounding increasingly exasperated as Derek remained silent, looking out towards the window and cursing everything that had led him to this point in his life.

Stiles had just laid bare his family’s biggest secret and it was only fitting that Derek finally clued him in on _his_ , but the right words wouldn’t come, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth.

The silence was turning awkward again and Derek scratched at his ear with a soft sigh, kicking off his shoes to conjure the illusion of having something to do.

When he lifted his legs to rest his feet on the ottoman, Stiles winced.

“Not Cora and her foot-rub skill’s doing, I hope?” he asked, pointing towards the swollen extremities and Derek shook his head with a half-hearted chuckle.

“Nah. Just lots of water-retention. I read that’s normal,” he said, flexing his toes a little and wincing at the sensation.

Stiles raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah, but man, I gotta say Danny’s feet never looked like this. I mean he’s got tinier feet than you to begin with, but well, you know. Looks painful,” he finished, a bit lamely, and Derek shrugged.

“My back’s worse and it’ll pass, so I’m not thinking about it too much, you know? And from what I remember I’m already bigger now than Mr. Mahealani looked when I … it doesn’t matter,” he said, trying to change the topic, but Stiles was still looking concerned, almost adorably so.

“Well, Danny carried really small, but Nicky was really tiny, too, so that might explain it a little. I think Ethan – his husband – was a little disappointed, he wanted to brag and he felt awkward about doing that when all he had to show for his virility was that little blink and you’ll miss it paunch. Good thing the kid was so cute when he came out,” Stiles said softly, looking like he was on the verge of asking something he might regret later.

“Do you want me to work my magic on those?”

Derek frowned, startled, and Stiles once again looked like he had made a horrible mistake, biting his lips with a nervous expression.

“Huh?” Derek asked and Stiles sighed.

“I meant your feet. I give good feet rubs. But I don’t want you to think I’m doing it out of pity or some strange feeling of obligation, I just … I don’t like not doing anything when I know I can do something. I know I have no right to touch you just because we … you can say no.”

“I don’t mind,” Derek said, knowing full well that it was a really stupid idea.

Stiles still looked like he didn’t quite know what he was doing or, to be more precise, why he was doing what he was doing, but when he sat down on the ottoman and began to gently knead into Derek’s left foot he indulged himself a little, allowing himself to imagine that this was a normal occurrence, that Stiles was doing it because he wanted to comfort the father of his baby and not because he felt bad for him because he was doing this without a partner.

Stiles _was_ good though, he hadn’t lied about that, and five minutes later Derek would have been willing to be his pity massage-client every day, if that meant he would get to enjoy this treatment.

“You really are quite good at massages,” he muttered and Stiles chuckled.

“My mom was a massage therapist. Started training me when I was five because my dad was on patrol a lot and she wanted someone to rub her neck when she came from work. I’ve always had unusually long fingers, so that worked out quite well. She managed to teach me quite a bit before she died,” Stiles explained.

“So can I ask you something? And it’s ok if that’s too personal, but I was wondering – are there any carriers in your family? Or are you the first?”

Derek exhaled the breath he had been holding, having expecting the worst after the first few words.

“I don’t think so? I mean, as you said, the documentation system wasn’t well developed then, so there could have been carriers, but I’ve never heard of one. I’m sure it was all kept secret though, based on my family’s position on all of this,” he mused and Stiles nodded.

“That’s probably it. I mean, there must have been a carrier somewhere in the family tree, I don’t think that carrier-gene just pops up you know, but hey, at least your baby will know and be prepared to potentially have to explain to his or her own sons one day why society is treating them the way they do … provided of course we haven’t made dramatic changes by then. Which I hope, but you never know. With my family though I’d be surprised if I had a non-carrier son, between Dziadek and my dad all of my sons will probably be carriers. Which I’ll teach them to own like the total bosses they will be but … wow, I’m already angry about the prejudices my hypothetical, un-conceived sons will have to suffer through, is that a weird thing to say?”

Derek cocked his head.

“I don’t think it is. I haven’t even met my baby yet and I already know I’d … I don’t think it’s weird,” he decided and Stiles smiled gently, winking at him to diffuse the tension.

“I’ll be the most protective father on the planet though, I mean, my dad was bad enough, but me? I’ll stalk them on their dates until they’re 40 and I’ll get my dad to teach me how to clean a gun dramatically just so I can make an impression on their first boyfriends and girlfriends. Yup, definitely, that’s what’s going to happen,” Stiles mused, looking back at Derek’s feet and Derek took a deep breath, trying to stop his stupid heart from stuttering.

“You want children?” he half-whispered, half-asked and if Stiles noticed his strangled tone he didn’t comment on it.

“Heck yeah! A whole lacrosse team full of kids! Living with Danny, Ethan, and Nicky has been eye opening in all the ways, babies are awesome and I want as many as possible. Well … I guess I’ll have to talk to my future partner about that, but I’m planning to make a very convincing case.”

“You’d make a good dad,” Derek finally said, feeling like he wanted to die, and when Stiles looked at him his expression was so vulnerable that Derek wanted to lean over and kiss the doubt right out of his face.

Stiles swallowed, never breaking his gaze, and for a moment Derek wondered if this was actually going to happen now, if the universe was really as unpredictable as it seemed.

Stiles’ hands on his feet had stilled and he was just holding on to Derek’s ankles now, thumbs softly stroking over the bony protrusions on the side and his touch was so gentle that Derek was sure Stiles could feel the goose-bumps that had broken out all over his skin.

Stiles leaned forward, mouth parted slightly, and Derek mirrored the movement, searching for final confirmation in the younger man’s eyes.

“If only those carrier-phobic assholes could see you guys now they’d probably have a cow! I’m taking a picture of this right now and sending it to Lydia! Jackson will freak out over the cuteness and then he’ll spend the next five hours pretending he didn’t. It’ll be awesome!”

Derek’s head whipped around, his heart galloping in his chest and Stiles let go of him immediately, uttering a somewhat shaky, “Cora!” as they both looked at Derek’s younger sister, who was leaning in a doorway with a delighted grin.

A grin that quickly turned to chagrin when she obviously realized what she had just interrupted.

For a moment, Derek wondered if he was still young enough to get away with throwing a full-blown temper tantrum, his feet still tingling with the ghost of Stiles’ touch.

Stiles, who currently wasn’t looking at him, his cheeks flushed red as he stared at the floor.

“Come over here, from what I hear you could stand learning some tricks,” he called out, obviously attempting to break the tension, and Cora, obviously trying to salvage the situation, let out a bark of laughter, throwing her bag carelessly into a corner as she came to sit on the ottoman next to Stiles, who promptly proceeded to tell her all she needed to know about foot massages.

If Cora noticed the slightly forced cheerfulness in his tone she didn’t let it show.

As his sister wrinkled her nose at his feet Stiles, hopped up onto the corner of the armchair, his right arm resting carelessly on the headrest behind Derek as they watched Cora work.

“Ow,” Derek muttered, still feeling pissed at his sister and glaring at Cora when she pinched a little too hard.

Cora sighed exasperatedly, a tiny look of disgust on her face.

“When was the last time you got a pedicure, jeez, I really don’t want to touch your hairy toes,” she muttered and Derek rolled his eyes, pointedly glancing at Cora’s bare feet, which put her ten different nail polishes on perfect display.

Stiles grinned, clearly amused by the sibling’s bickering and having obviously regained most of his composure.

As Cora continued muttering about gross, hairy feet, Stiles held up his left hand and moved it in circular motions, demonstrating to her what she was doing wrong.

Then, Stiles lowered his hand until it came to rest on Derek’s belly, gently rubbing the protrusion with the same circular motion he had just shown to Cora, obviously not aware that he was doing it.

Derek let out a sharp breath and all three adults froze.

Derek, because having Stiles actually touch him like this, like he had the right to do so because it was also his baby, was all at once painful, glorious, and fulfilling a deep-seated need he hadn’t allowed himself to have.

Stiles, because he looked almost wounded as he stared down at Derek’s belly, his hand frozen to the spot and his eyes wide open.

Cora, because she was staring back and forth between them, her expression resembling that of a deeply pained woman who had just confirmed a long-held suspicion.

The baby kicked a rather enthusiastic ‘hello’ and Stiles snatched his hand back like he’d been burnt.

“Holy shit! I’m _so_ sorry Derek! I shouldn’t have done that! I know you don’t touch pregnant people without their permission; I was raised better than this! Shit! I’m so sorry, I have to go, I’m going, I’ll … love ya Cora, see ya Cora, bye Derek!”

Stiles hightailed it out of the loft like his ass was on fire and both Hale siblings watched him go, Cora’s expression partly amused and partly shocked and Derek wondering if he looked as heartbroken as he felt.

The baby kicked again, as if to ask why its other father had just fled the scene like a criminal and Derek rested his palm against the spot, silently apologizing for the entire mess once again.

A second later, Cora’s hand joined his.

“You never gave me an actual verbal answer other than your terrifying eyebrow game, but I’m going to take what I just witnessed as the final proof. This is Stiles’ baby. And he still has no fucking clue.”

It wasn’t a question, and Derek closed his eyes, which seemed confirmation enough for his little sister.

“Derek … you really are an idiot,” she sighed and when he opened his eyes again Cora was sitting cross-legged on the ottoman, shaking her head in resignation.

“I’m supposed to be the one making the dumb decisions, I’m the youngest, not you! Why doesn’t he know about this yet? That was literally the entire point of sending him home with you tonight! Did you think I bailed on you on purpose, leaving you alone with someone I know you’re not quite comfortable with yet? I wouldn’t have done that without a reason, I hope you realize that! You _have_ to tell him Derek! As soon as possible! He’d move mountains for this little baby, heck, he’s already complicated his life for the two of you without even knowing it’s _his_ , and I honestly don’t get why you would keep this from him! Not to mention the fact that he’s _still_ hung up on you, in case that wasn’t obvious just now! Is that what you’re afraid of? That he doesn’t feel for you what you feel for him? Well, let tell you something, the longer you keep this from him the slimmer your chances are of actually getting the boy in the end! Tell him, Derek! Don’t be a fool!”

Derek shook his head, not looking at her as he stared out the window.

“It’s not that easy,” he said quietly, closing his eyes when the baby kicked as if in protest of his statement.

Cora made a frustrated noise.

“When are things ever easy for us? That’s no excuse and you know it! He’s got real feelings for you, no matter what happened! Don’t throw away the first chance at real happiness you’ve had in a long time!”

“It was only one night! You can’t have these kind of feelings after one night!” Derek replied, not opening his eyes for fear they might actually spill over thanks to his stupid out-of-whack-hormones and Cora reached up her hand with a sigh, carding her fingers through his hair and resting her palm against his cheek.

“If you can’t have these kind of feelings after one night then why are you so heartbroken right now?” she asked just as quietly, shaking her head and wrapping her arms around his shoulders when Derek didn’t answer.

There was no answer that would have made sense to anyone.

 

================

 

“I think I’m in love!”

Stiles, who had been moping around the apartment for over an hour and was currently sprawled all over his bed, grunted questioningly.

“Huh? With whom?”

“The brown-haired, fairy-like goddess! The one whose eyes burn bright with the passion of a thousand wolves and whose beautiful, pink lips will howl in ecstasy by the time I’m through with her! That one!” Malia, who had knocked on the door with a bottle of wine earlier, said dreamily.

Stiles snorted.

“Cora Hale? Good luck with that, Cora never goes on a second date, ever, with men _or_ women,” he said apologetically, not wanting her to get hung up on a person with the last name Hale that she had no chance of having a future with.

Not that he knew anything about that particular feeling, nope, nothing whatsoever.

“And besides, falling for a Hale can only end in misery, so I really wouldn’t recommend that course of action at all,” he continued and Malia pinched his shoulder, making him yelp in protest.

“What was that for?”

“That was for being a hypocrite, obviously!” Malia replied and Stiles could tell by the tone of her voice that she was grinning as she proceeded to rake her long nails through his hair.

“Am not,” he muttered into his pillow and Malia scoffed.

“Oh please, Stiles. I know we’ve only known each other for two weeks or so and technically didn’t become friends until we bonded over Jordan Parrish screaming bloody murder while giving birth, but I’m neither blind nor dumb. I told you I watched the two of you during that first class, to make absolutely sure you weren’t going to make a scene after all, and do you want to know what I saw?”

Stiles groaned.

“Must you?”

Malia scoffed again, louder this time.

“Heck yeah! Because what I saw were two _pining_ men drawing comfort from each other’s presence while bending over backwards to make sure the other didn’t realize. Your fingers kept twitching for almost the entire time you were sitting behind him, as if you really wanted to touch him but weren’t quite sure if you were allowed and every time you did he looked like the fact that you didn’t go through with it was breaking his heart. Honestly, based on your severe case of heart-eyes I almost expected to find a shrine dedicated to the man in your room. Kudos on not doing that by the way, because that would have been creepy. And today? At the hospital? Well Stiles, I don’t really know whom you are trying to fool, but if that wasn’t a man going out of his mind with worry about his partner and child then I don’t know what it was.”

“It’s not my baby, so you were definitely imagining things,” Stiles muttered and Malia shook her head.

“Doesn’t matter if it’s yours or not, I’m not imagining anything. And I wasn’t the only one seeing it either. Pretty sure you can drop to your knees and worship at the altar of Doc McCall that she snapped that paparazzo’s photo-chip in two, because believe me, no one would have been able to look at you glaring into the camera and posturing like an adorably freckled Alpha coyote protecting his whelping mate in their den and think “Oh yeah, there’s nothing between them, that’s definitely obvious!” Not a single person who’s been through puberty and knows about sexual attraction at least.”

She laughed, gently punching Stiles’ shoulder.

“It’s ok, I mean, it’s a bit weird that you’re so gone on him after all of that controversy, but it makes sense, I guess? I always thought there was a little too much heat between the two of you when I saw you on television. Also, that kiss today? I mean, don’t get me wrong, really creative way to stop a panic attack, I was impressed, but not quite something you’d do with just anyone, you know? Not to mention that it clearly didn’t look like a first kiss, which leads me to another question …”

“It was just one time,” Stiles answered softly, not wanting her to have to voice it and definitely not thinking about the almost-kiss that had been interrupted by Cora earlier in the evening.

“One time only, the night before I found out Danny had gotten fired. And then we didn’t speak a friendly word with each other until he fell over on that stage and became part of the people I have pledged to protect, so you really don’t have to blow things out of proportion. Whatever there could have been was squashed in the beginning and all I’m trying right now is to be there for him, along with everyone else.”

“And that’s totally admirable, but why you? Why can’t it be Cora, whose only focus is clearly on her brother right now, or else she would have jumped me the minute I laid my smoldering bedroom eyes on her! I have magical power that way; don’t even snort. Anyways, there is really no reason at all for you to be the self-sacrificing pseudo-father figure here, _least of all_ you, to be honest, so the fact that you seem so desperate to fill that void tells me you’re deluding yourself if you think you _aren’t_ madly in love with that guy and already planning to adopt his little cub.”

Stiles turned on his back, crossing his hands under his head and fixing Malia with a disbelieving stare.

“You are seriously one of the weirdest people I have ever met. I mean that in a good way, but seriously, ‘madly in love’? Planning to adopt the ‘cub’? We had sex twice, I went home thinking it could be something more and stumbled into Danny’s misery, which put a lid on that pretty quickly. I’m sympathetic to what’s he’s going through right now, getting pregnant by a random one night stand without even knowing you could must be a terrible experience, but that doesn’t mean I want to ride in like a knight in shining armor and whisk him away to a magical fairytale land with a happily ever after. That’s not how life works.”

“And yet you look at him as if you want nothing more than to be the father of that cub, so either you’re really desperate to become a dad or you have some real feelings for Derek Hale, and trust me when I say that the feelings are reciprocated. I have no idea how you guys will make this work and obviously you’ll have to deal with the deadbeat dad eventually, but if I were you and noticed the man I’m not-so-secretly in love with looking at me the same way I’d pounce on him and kiss the breath out of him! Then I’d bring him to my den and provide everything he needs to nourish the cub and I’d slather some oil all over …”

She trailed off at the slightly disturbed expression on Stiles’ face and shrugged, grin not at all apologetic.

“Just think about it Stiles! We each go and get ourselves a Hale and we’ll both be happy! Win-win situation for everyone.”

Stiles sighed, turning back on his belly to avoid looking at the earnest compassion on Malia’s face.

“He’s got enough on his plate right now, and besides, he was really clear about what he wanted when we were … together, you know? If he’d still want me I’d know it.”

Malia sighed theatrically before draping herself all over Stiles’ back, her nose nuzzling against his neck as she bracketed his arms with hers.

“Stiles, you’re super smart but you’re a bit of an idiot, too. The man is eight months pregnant with someone else’s baby! That’s a deal breaker for like 99 percent of the population, how is he supposed to know it wouldn’t be for you?”

“And that’s why I’m saying he’s got enough on his plate! Namely, a baby! Who deserves him trying to give the kid’s father a shot! I don’t want to be in the way of that! We missed our moment because life got in the way and I’m going to learn to live with it! It’s stupid anyhow, you don’t fall in love like that after sleeping with someone twice.”

Malia stretched all over his back like a cat, making a contemplative sound.

“Normally you don’t. But exceptions make the rule, you know?”

“Platitudes won’t help,” Stiles muttered, and Malia sighed.

“We’ll see about that. You just wait and see.”

“I’ve seen plenty these past months, and with the exception of Nicky and Jonna I didn’t particularly like any of it.”

Malia grinned against his cheek, her hair tickling his ear.

“You’ll make a good daddy for the cub, biological or not. I’m not worried.”

“Because you’re a crazy person,” Stiles muttered, though there was no heat behind it, and when Malia laughed loudly enough into his ear to make him wince he figured he probably deserved it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos to the "Stiles' Mom was a Carrier and then got a sex-change"-theory, because that's pretty darn creative!  
> The actual reveal wasn't quite as inventive, but I hope it got the point across.
> 
> Also, I threw something in here that will lead to a very important revelation in a bit, wonder if anyone knows what I mean ;). 
> 
> And before you get too frustrated with me about making Stiles the main character of the "I Didn't Know"-Trope, behold the - long-awaited - plot summary for next chapter ;).
> 
>  
> 
> Next Update: Tuesday/Wednesday  
> Chapter Title: "The Baby-Shower"  
> Chapter Summary: Derek's friends and family throw him a surprise baby shower. Later, Stiles overhears something that definitely wasn't meant for his ears and receives the biggest shock of his life.
> 
>  
> 
> P.S: The end-scene of "Grizzly Rage" deserves all the mockery. All of it. I shall not be ashamed, soft spot for Hoechlin or not ;).


	17. The Baby Shower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek's friends and family throw him a surprise baby shower. Later, Stiles overhears something that definitely wasn't meant for his ears and receives the biggest shock of his life.

**32 Weeks**

Five weeks without a job, five weeks of constant taunts on the streets, and five weeks of watching his belly distend almost in slow motion – all in all, one definitely couldn’t say that Derek’s life had been boring, now that his unwelcome moment of fame as a talk-show star had come to an end and he had been unceremoniously fired from his family’s company.

The first observation kept him awake at night, partly because he felt restless without having a routine and partly because he was acutely aware of the state of his bank-account, realizing that without a new paycheck every month and his access to his inheritance blocked off for the moment, he would run out of money sooner rather than later, which, considering all the expenses that were awaiting him in the very near future, was alarming indeed.

The second one had him feeling emotionally drained every time he stepped back into the comfort of his loft, wondering if he would ever get used to the disgusted looks, the hurtful comments or the way people got into his space now, as if he had become a free access punching ball.

Luckily, the only person who had actually punched him so far was his little one and Derek was almost certain that, small or not, the baby would be born with the longest limbs in the history of newborns, not certain what else could explain the kid’s precision aim. When it wasn’t sleeping it was kicking up a storm, the movements rather comforting to Derek whenever his stress level spiked over a new insult or – once or twice – spit hurled at him and he had been strangely touched when the ERC had condemned the harassment against Derek immediately, their voice once again present on all the news channels.

The first time someone had spat at him he had been alone, just a short trip to the grocery store two blocks away, and when he had come back, shell-shocked and still feeling the phantom moisture of spit on his face, Cora had almost thrown a tantrum in her fury, decreeing that from now until further notice Derek was not going to go out alone without supervision.

He had thought it ridiculous at first, trying to reason that people would eventually move on, but he had nevertheless been grateful for Erica stepping between him and two agitated men two days later, a lethal look on her face that had sent the two – teenagers, they had just been teenagers – scampering.

Derek hated that he had to be baby-sat now, he did, but at the same time he didn’t want to cause more unnecessary risk to his baby.

Erica was looking for new jobs on the internet, much like Cora, more often than not while sipping espressos on Derek’s couch, and even though the smell of the coffee sometimes got to him a little Derek never said anything, too appreciative of having people in his space after months and months of feeling lost and alone.

The pregnancy hormones were making him increasingly cranky though – “Face it, you’ve always been Mr. Grumpy-pants, don’t use the precious as an excuse,” Cora had declared the other day – and sometimes the open space actually felt crowded with Cora being there all the time, as much as loved her.

When she made too much noise Derek sometimes wondered how it would work out once a crying baby had been added to the mix, but he would have never asked her to leave, not because she couldn’t have found another apartment easily after throwing her keys into Laura’s face with a snarl, but because he liked the feeling of someone other than him caring about how the baby was doing, someone looking after him and stepping in when he simply felt to tired to accomplish even the most mundane aspects of housework.

Which, coincidentally, had a lot to do with the third issue currently on his mind and on his midsection – the child, which, though still not at a level that Melissa was comfortable with, continued to grow and expand his stomach further and further, until the point that he could no longer see his feet without doing some acrobatic maneuvering.

There was just no way he could have hidden it now, the curve clearly visible even under his bulkiest sweater-jacket.

However, having his sister around made everything easier, especially now that his body had deigned to introduce him to the utter delight that were Braxton Hicks contractions.

They weren’t as bad as that first time, now that he knew what they were and what to expect, but knowing his sister was there if the uncomfortable tightness actually turned into real pain and he had to rush to the hospital after all helped immensely.

Cora had also, apparently, decided to become the shopping queen extraordinaire, dragging him along as her unwilling accomplice and ignoring all of his protestations that he had made it without paternity clothes so far and there really was no use in investing now, even if he had two more months to go.

Not that he didn’t enjoy wearing something that was actually made for his current shape, but the price on the final receipt had almost literally made him nauseous, leading to a very freaked out Cora waving her hands in front of his face to get him some air and a horribly uncomfortable sales associate hovering in the background with a glass of water, obviously torn between wanting to help and telling Derek just exactly what she thought of him and his hypocrisy.

It was a sentiment he had encountered frequently since the reveal, since the public remained unaware that Derek’s uncle had gone through great lengths to hide his carrier status from him, making him look like a hypocrite indeed.

Derek wasn’t surprised Peter had threatened him, aware that his uncle _and_ Dr. Blake could have actually faced jail-time for medical fraud if their machinations had been exposed, but this way he alone was bearing the brunt of it and the more time passed the more the entire unfairness of it all was beginning to wear him down.

Granted, he could have actually checked the date on that condom, but his unawareness of his carrier status had definitely not been his fault and on some days he was almost angry enough to confide in Cora, aware that his little sister would not have hesitated a second to fight against this with him.

However, the threat of Peter’s last words to him was still ringing in his ears, keeping him awake at night, and constantly reminding him just how much was at stake here.

If he hadn’t had his little baby to worry about he probably would have risked it, having been used and violated one too many times to stay silent any longer, even if it meant that his family name would forever be sullied. However, he _did_ have to think about the baby now and even though he wanted to believe his uncle would never follow through on his threat he was well aware that he could no longer trust him.

It had been two weeks since the Braxton Hicks incident and about a week since he had seen Stiles, their last encounter a rather brief but friendly interaction when Stiles had stopped by to drop something off for Cora, and when Derek sat down on the armchair with a book on Saturday afternoon he actually felt relaxed, enjoying the silence in his loft while he waited for his sister to return from an errand.

Cora had left in a rush after breakfast and Derek had spent the better part of the day sleeping, waking occasionally to go to the bathroom and wondering if movies about pregnancy would sell half as well if they were more honest about how high the average time spent in a bathroom while expecting actually was.

He was engrossed in his book when Cora returned, the volume resting comfortably on the crest of his stomach and occasionally bumping when the child kicked against it and when he looked up Cora was grinning mysteriously, her eyes twinkling mischievously as she walked to the armchair and took the book away.

“Close your eyes Der-Bear!” she instructed him and Derek raised his eyebrows but obliged her, making a mental note to hit her later if she had actually wasted money on the purple-pink polka-dotted sweater-monstrosity she had been eyeing in the paternity section for the past two weeks and heatedly defended as ‘perfectly acceptable for a guy comfortable in his own maleness’.

There was some more shuffling, a whispered curse that sounded remarkably like Erica, and when a multitude of voices yelled ‘Surprise!’ Derek’s eyes shot up, blinking uncomprehendingly as he stared at the occupants of his loft in shock.

Under a garish, pink and blue banner that read ‘baby-shower’ and looked like a toddler had hastily drawn it, there was a line of people grinning at him, some of which he would have expected to see at his baby-shower – if he had ever in a million years thought about having one – and some whose presence startled him, wondering if they were here to cause trouble.

First there was Cora, an encouraging smile on her face and a huge pink box with a blue bow in her arms a she winked at him and then bumped against Erica’s arm with her shoulder, leading the blonde to smile smugly as Derek’s eyes widened when he noticed the alarmingly large box standing between her and Boyd.

Boyd was, as usual, the picture of stoic indifference, though his lips were curling towards a smile ever so slightly and next to him Kira Yukimura was smiling shyly, her arm wrapped around Scott McCall’s waist, who looked mostly uncomfortable but also genuinely concerned that Derek might take this surprise badly.

Next to Scott Ken Yukimura had clapped a hand on the younger man’s shoulder and Derek felt very uncomfortable all of a sudden, not really sure how to talk to one of the first pregnant men who had gone public in the initial stages of the carrier-movement.

Next to him there was Malia, and while Derek was not necessarily surprised to see _her_ in this context he was definitely startled – if pleasantly so – to see Stiles standing right next to her, hands fidgeting at his sides as if he was itching to run away.

Perhaps the most surprising person of all, however, was Jordan Parrish, who was holding a baby carrier with his newborn daughter inside.

Shaking his head at himself, Derek wondered if the fact that the presence of the baby was making him more nervous than Stiles’ presence was in any way an indicator for his future parenting-skills.

Cora cleared her throat.

“It occurred to Erica and me the other day that - at least according to Doc McCall at General Mercy – you have been carrying my little niece or nephew for almost 32 weeks now and no one has actually celebrated that properly yet! Granted, the circumstances are a bit .. uhm … _special_ , but I believe, and Erica agrees, that just because you got yourself into the largest mess this family has seen since Peter drunkenly fell off the balcony during that one Vegas show and landed on a Drag artist in front of 2000 people, that doesn’t mean the baby will be unloved and unwelcome. So we brainstormed and decided that a little baby-shower was well overdue, it’s been too long since we have celebrated anything in this place,” she concluded, watching her brother’s face carefully as a plethora of conflicted emotions flitted over his face.

“You’re probably wondering why _we’re_ here,” Ken Yukimura spoke up next, his expression a little cautious but overall warm and friendly and Derek nodded dumbly, indeed wondering why the people he had slammed publicly for months now wanted to give him _presents_.

“We believe that all carrier babies should be celebrated, especially in a society where they are often regarded as physical manifestations of a perversion, and this is a belief that we hold sacred, no matter the circumstances surrounding their coming into existence. And if you’ll have us, my family would very much like to celebrate your baby with your family,” he said firmly, holding out his hand with a soft smile as Derek, who had pushed himself out of his chair and tried his best to walk and not waddle over to the group, came to stand in front of him.

A part of Derek was still wondering if this was a trick but when he grasped Yukimura’s hand the man’s grip was relaxed, both of them letting out the breath they had apparently been holding.

“Carrier-Baby-Pride!” Kira added, repeating her catch-phrase with a sheepish smile and next to her Scott nodded earnestly, though his expression remained cautious.

“Allison sends her regards. She would have loved to come, but apparently Kate’s been pushing for you to have to pay back salary for every month you hid your pregnancy and she’s technically not allowed to be in contact with you right now. Don’t worry, Ally will make sure that’s not going to happen, but well … better not risk any more trouble,” he said carefully and Derek rubbed his hand over his face with a sigh, hoping that McCall’s trust in his former girlfriend was indeed justified.

“And since your last class ended rather _spectacularly_ I figured I’d come see how you’re doing myself!” Malia spoke up brusquely, though the furtive glances she was sending towards Cora were telling Derek that the reason she was actually here might be something entirely different indeed.

“How’s Honey Bunny doing?” Stiles asked quietly and Derek swallowed, wondering if his mind was playing tricks on him based on many futile hours spent wishfully thinking or if he had actually just seen Stiles’ hand twitching towards his belly, as if he wanted to touch it again to make sure the baby was doing ok.

“Hon … the baby is fine,” he said quickly, looking warningly at Cora when his sister let out a very theatrical sigh.

“I hope it’s ok I tagged along. I’m going back to Beacon Hills on Monday and Stiles asked if I wanted to come and well, I’ve been cooped up in that apartment with my baby for two weeks, it’s been nice, but I was getting some real cabin fever there at the end. I know we technically don’t know each other, but I did bring you a gift so I hope it’s ok?” Jordan was smiling hesitantly and Derek nodded.

“It’s fine! I’m glad to see you again, I hope your daughter is doing ok?” he hastened to assure him, stealing a glance inside the baby-carrier, where Jordan’s daughter was still sleeping soundly.

“She’s perfect! Her name is Jonna Marie, Baby J to her friends, and she’s … well, I already told you she’s perfect, but that’s really all I can think of when I look at her, so I’m afraid I’ll have to be a bit repetitive. The novelty hasn’t worn off yet, that’s for sure!” Jordan said with a smile and Derek smiled back, not sure what he was supposed to say to that.

“Let’s go sit down!” Cora interrupted, throwing her arm around Derek’s shoulder as she gently steered him back towards the couch and when he was seated again she grinned, looking absolutely delighted and beaming at Erica, who had stepped up towards her to nudge against her shoulder.

His little sister had always loved parties and baby showers were apparently no exception.

“So we thought about doing silly party-games first, but that seemed like a recipe for awkward disaster, so here’s what’s going to happen: You are going to open presents, then we’ll have some delicious cake and some finger-food and make polite small talk in which nobody will mention the past months _at all_ and then we are going to go home and you will finally have stuff for the baby. In all honesty, Cora and I were wondering if you thought diapers just magically grew on trees or something,” Erica announced, easily sliding back into micromanaging Derek’s activities and Derek shrugged, heartbeat quickening slightly when he realized that yes, he probably should have gotten started on actually buying stuff for his child weeks earlier.

The first gift he opened was the large box from Erica and Boyd and when he had finally wrestled off the oversized bow he gaped at them, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You can’t … this is way too much, you both …”

“Boyd just found a new job yesterday and I and my voluptuous bosom are currently making more money in tips at my temp bartending gig than you ever paid me Derek, so don’t you worry about us. We’ll be just fine! This is our gift to you and the baby and don’t you even think about giving it back!”

Nodding gratefully, Derek pulled off the rest of the paper, taking in the beautiful picture of a black crib on the cover.

“It’s supposed to be the safest and best on the market right now, we checked,” Erica explained, playfully swatting at Boyd when he dryly remarked, “And by checked she means she put the fear of all that’s holy into that poor salesman during the interrogation process.”

Chuckling, Derek reached for Erica’s hand, grasping it tightly in thanks before she ordered Boyd to move the box out of the way, making room for him to open Cora’s present.

Cora looked nervous and Derek wondered if she _had_ gotten him the pink sweater after all, his snort dying in his throat when he lifted the lid of the box and gasped in shock.

Cora was watching him with a sad smile as Derek lifted a onesie out of the box with trembling hands, the color a soft green with a little wolf stitched on the front.

“How …” he began, voice breaking as he couldn’t help but rub his cheek against the soft fabric, inhaling the long-forgotten perfume of his mother.

“Mom made a onesie for all of us, for our first child, actually, just in case she wouldn’t be around to see it. She kept them in a fire-safe box in their closet, along with a bunch of other family keepsakes, and it’s been sitting in storage for 16 years, since, you know, no one felt up to actually go through the few things that remained after the fire. I had almost forgotten about it, but I walked past a picture of Red Riding Hood and the Wolf the other day and I remembered Mom reading it to me shortly before she died and telling me that that was always Derek’s favorite fairy tale. That’s why she made a wolf-onesie for his first baby. And I’m pretty damn sure she didn’t care who would give birth to it, so this was the perfect gift,” Cora explained to the group, sounding a little congested herself as she leaned forward and kissed Derek’s cheek, one hand gently patting his belly.

“If you inherit your Papa’s eyes you’ll look beautiful in this onesie little one. Auntie Cora will show you off everywhere!” she declared, smiling softly.

“What’s on yours?” Malia asked, looking like she wasn’t sure if it had been appropriate a second after and Cora smiled sadly, sitting back down on a pillow on the floor with a shrug.

“I don’t know. I didn’t even know Mom had actually gotten around to make one for me until I saw the box with my name on it when I went to go look for Derek’s in storage. I’ll find out if I ever have kids I guess, but for now I don’t need to know,” she said, shrugging with a forced casual expression.

“But enough with the sentimentalities, let’s see what Uncle Scott and Auntie Kira brought!” she continued and Scott ceremoniously handed over a large package, nodding towards Mr. Yukimura.

“We thought we’d get the baby a toy or something but Dad said what he or she is really going to need is about a million diapers, so we figured we’d give you a head-start instead,” Kira explained and Mr. Yukimura chuckled, muttering, “Rookie-mistake,” when Derek gaped at the sheer impossible amount of diapers in disbelief.

Malia was next and this time Derek actually snorted when he opened the box and stared at a baby-blanket with a coyote print.

“It goes perfectly with Cora’s gift, don’t you think so?” Malia grinned and Cora, to Derek’s surprise, blushed.

He had initially thought Malia was interested in Stiles, but his little sister had never blushed for anyone, not in all the years he had glared at her dates, so he was quickly realizing the fault in his jealousy-fueled logic.

“I contributed to the diapers. I know, not very creative, but after two weeks as a parent I can already say that you go through these like nobody’s business,” Jordan said, indicating towards the gigantic box filled with diapers and Derek smiled gratefully, nodding in acknowledgement.

That left Stiles’ gift and when Derek unwrapped the box and saw the stuffed bunny with honey-colored fur he couldn’t stop himself from chuckling.

“Told you I’m getting a distinct honey-bunny vibe about your little one,” Stiles muttered, sounding a little embarrassed, and Derek smiled at him without thinking, the first real, care-free smile he had allowed himself to direct at the man ever since their night together.

If anyone – and it would have been a miracle if someone hadn’t, honestly – noticed the sharp intake of breath coming from Stiles no one was tactless enough to comment on it, even though Derek was reasonably sure his sister and Erica were about to throttle both of them.

“We should check out if both the baby and this bunny will fit in the crib,” Erica said all of a sudden, interrupting the awkward silence with her usual air of efficiency.

“Stiles! Go make yourself useful and use those deliciously dexterous hands of yours to put that crib together, will you?” she ordered and Derek’s head whipped towards her, his expression alarmed.

Cora looked startled as well but Erica ignored them both, waving her hands impatiently at Stiles when the man shuffled uncomfortably.

“I thought Boyd could …”

“Nonsense! If Derek went into labor right here and now Boyd could pick him up and carry him all the way to the hospital with one arm, no problem, but you and me both know that he has been banned from using tools outside the bedroom ever since the shelf he drilled into the wall above our bed almost decapitated us while we were having some glorious sexy times one night. In fact, you do know for sure, because you were passed out on our guest couch at the time and almost had a heart attack when the screaming started. I know your father taught you all about this, so there’s no excuse, chop chop Stilinski!” she decided and Stiles looked towards Derek anxiously, expression conflicted.

“Do you … I mean, wouldn’t the father … are you sure it’s ok?” he stammered and Derek’s heart clenched when he realized that Stiles still thought he was intruding into the rights of the ‘absent father’.

From the looks on Cora and Erica’s faces they both seemed to be on the verge of telling Stiles just who the father was exactly and Derek nodded quickly to keep them quiet, holding the bunny in a death-grip when he croaked, “It’s fine, I don’t mind at all.”

Stiles shrugged once before clapping his hands together and muttering, “Alright then!” as he lugged the box over into the bedroom area with Boyd’s help and began to pull the various parts out of the box.

Derek couldn’t remember feeling so uncomfortable in quite a while and the feeling didn’t get better when he noticed Scott staring at him, looking like a man who was on the brink of figuring out something that he didn’t want to believe.

Derek held his gaze calmly, keeping his poker-face intact even as his heartbeat sped up and the baby began to kick, clearly aware of the stress its father was under.

Eventually, Scott looked away, muttering softly to himself as he shook his head and Derek exhaled slowly, hoping desperately that Scott wouldn’t say anything to Stiles.

McCall might have convinced himself by the sheer power of his unwillingness to accept that what he was thinking could in fact be true, but Stiles was more suspicious by nature and if he had asked him again in that moment Derek didn’t think he could have continued the lie, not with the baby’s due date looming over his head, his constant fear for the child’s health and safety, and his anxieties about failing at all of this on his own.

Malia had joined Stiles in the bedroom area of the loft and was now sitting cross-legged on the bed as she read the instructions to him, apparently cracking jokes every now and then because Stiles’ tension seemed gone, replaced by the occasional bout of laughter. Cora was hovering next to the bed, obviously drawn to Malia, while Erica was grinning at her carpentry-challenged fiancé and despite the ache in his chest Derek had to stifle a grin when he heard her not so quiet whisper of “Now _that’s_ some skillful use of a rod!”

Kira, Scott, and Mr. Yukimura were also watching the crib-proceedings, laughing at Mr. Yukimura’s trip down memory lane as he recalled an 18 months old Kira coming up with new and creative ways to sneak into her parents’ bed, while Jordan, whose baby had started mewling in her sleep, was rocking his daughter next to Derek.

“This is the longest I have coaxed her into sleeping without being held, we are slowly but surely making progress. I think she has built-in-sensors that tell her when she’s not close to someone, because she wakes up as soon as I try to put her into her crib. I’m not big on the whole co-sleeping thing, but sometimes I’m almost tempted,” he said, beaming at the baby as he adjusted her in his arms.

“Jordan? A little help here?” Stiles called out all of a sudden, sounding a bit frustrated, and Jordan rolled his eyes, then looked back at Derek.

“I helped him move to college because his father was busy with a case and I’ve had the reputation of being an excellent furniture-assembler ever since. It’s nice praise, but I’m looking forward to the day when all my colleagues’ kids are moved out of home, I have a hard time saying no when bribed with delicious baked goods,” the deputy sighed, looking back and forth between his daughter and Derek.

“Listen … would you mind holding her for a bit? I don’t want to wake her up and now that I’ve been holding her for a while she’ll start screaming bloody-murder the minute I put her down in the carrier. You can say no but I figure a bit of practice can’t hurt?”

“Are you sure?” Derek asked, stunned, and Jordan shrugged.

“I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume dropping my daughter is not on your bucket list. And besides, I really need to get used to other people holding her, I can’t take off work forever, so this is practice for me and for you. Just make sure you support her head,” he instructed and Derek held his breath when the deputy placed the baby in his arms.

Jonna seemed completely unfazed her by change in cuddle partners as she snuggled against Derek’s chest and Jordan smiled, muttering, “Good job baby-girl,” before he went and joined a softly cursing Stiles on the floor to figure out the instructions.

Derek stared down at the baby, smiling when she uttered the tiniest of sighs, taking in her delicate, impossibly small fingers, the soft foam of hair on her head, and the gentle softness of her skin, as well as the surprisingly long eyelashes that gave her a look of almost ethereal beauty.

“Hey. I’m Derek,” he whispered, his breath catching in his throat when the baby’s legs twitched against where she was resting on his belly and his own child kicked back, as if to say ‘hello’.

“Someone is jealous, hmm?”

Derek looked up, startled, and when he met Stiles’ gaze the man blushed, pointing towards the visible movement under Derek’s shirt.

“Looks like a little honey-bunny rebellion to me,” he continued and Derek shook his head with a wistful smile.

“No need for a rebellion. It took me a while but I’ve definitely got my priorities straight now. At least when it comes to my baby,” he answered quietly and Stiles let out a soft sigh, looking into Derek’s eyes for confirmation before he sat down on the ottoman, palms lying flat on his thighs.

“ _Everyone_ needs to get their priorities straight for their babies,” he said emphatically, and if they had been normal friends Derek, who knew what Stiles was referring to, was sure the man wouldn’t have hesitated to round up the ‘absent father’ and punch the heck out of him for what he clearly considered shameful abandonment.

He was obviously not feeling comfortable enough to say it out loud, but Derek, despite his occasional trips into obliviousness, could read the man’s body-language well enough.

“I think she likes you. I held her during her afternoon nap yesterday and she kept wiggling around, making these little twitchy-sounds. I’m not even a tiny bit jealous right now,” Stiles continued, smiling at Jonna fondly and Derek cocked his head.

“I should hope so. I haven’t held a baby since Cora was that little and something tells me I better brush up on my skills,” he tried to joke, the words sounding flat to his own ears.

Stiles leaned forward, his expression hesitant.

“You look good like this, you know that? Sorry, I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but you know by now that I don’t have a very developed brain-to-mouth filter. I just wanted to say that – and again, not my place but I figure it’s about time we start saying only nice things to each other – I’m pretty sure Honey-Bunny will love the heck out of you.”

Derek knew that Stiles felt guilty for the way he had treated him for months and he appreciated the man’s attempts to be nice, but at the same time each comforting word was like a stab into his guilty conscience.

The moment when he could have told Stiles he was the father and avoided a massive blow-up of hurt feelings, anger, and betrayal had come and gone in that hospital room, he realized that now, and each of Stiles’ attempts to be friendly were pushing them further and further away from developing at least a civilized co-parent relationship.

He had to tell him. He just didn’t know how to start.

“Hey Derek, listen, about the other day … I wanted to apologize again. I feel like I’ve been doing that a lot, lately, but I really didn’t mean to get all up into your personal space and touch you like that. I know pregnant people are very selective about whom they feel comfortable touching them and I am deeply sorry if I upset you.”

Derek blinked, startled.

“What? Oh … oh! No, you do not have to apologize at all! If I was uncomfortable with you touching me I wouldn’t have allowed you to massage my feet. You could do it again, you know.”

 _Idiot!_ Derek’s brain screamed and when Stiles gaped at him he wondered if somehow, somewhere, a higher power was laughing at him.

“You want me to massage your feet again? Uhm … sure? If they are hurting you?”

“No! No, that’s not what I meant at all I just thought … if you wanted to say hi to the baby you could … you don’t have to, this is weird, I shouldn’t have offered.”

“I’d love to Derek,” Stiles said quietly, his smile open and fond as he hesitantly reached out a hand and placed it right over the movement, exerting just the gentlest of pressures when the baby nudged back.

“Ethan used to just rest his hands on Danny’s stomach when Nicky was moving around like that, it always seemed to soothe him eventually. Either that, or the kid just fell asleep, but Ethan likes to think he has the magic touch,” Stiles said, sounding distracted as his hands followed the baby’s movements, his smile full of wonder.

“I swear, this will never stop feeling extremely weird and exhilarating all at once,” Stiles muttered and Derek stared at his hands, then at his face, rocking Jonna almost absentmindedly now.

As if the baby had noticed she was no longer the star in the room she suddenly started crying, startling both Derek and Stiles out of their reverie.

“Coming my love!” Jordan called out and Derek handed the crying baby back to her father, feeling the loss of Stiles’ hand acutely when he realized that the man had all but fled back to the crib, which looked as if it was almost done.

“You really should tell him, soon, before you pop out that baby, preferably, because I’m pretty sure he’d want to be there for that and I don’t think he’ll forgive you if he isn’t,” Cora whispered against his ear and Derek, who hadn’t even noticed her approach, flinched, knowing full well that she was right.

“Soon,” Cora repeated, her voice bordering on frustrated, and Derek had to hand it to her when she straightened up and called out “Dessert anyone?” so cheerfully that no one would have ever suspected anything was wrong.  

“We’ve got cupcakes, pie, and, because _someone_ has been driving me crazy with demands for Mexican food at all hours of the day and night, flan and churros. Help yourselves,” she instructed when the guests wandered back into the living room area, in a tone that left no room for argument.

Derek, who was fighting to get his composure back, sighed when she placed her hand on his shoulder to stop him from getting up himself. His sister’s mother-henning was definitely getting a tiny bit old.

“Speaking of _cupcakes_ ,” Malia, who was now sitting cross-legged on the sofa with a plate filled with the dessert in question, said with a grin, “guess who had their little babies last night?”

“Already, isn’t it a bit early?” Scott asked, immediately concerned, and Malia shook her head, a grin on her face.

“Nah, Greenberg almost but not quite broke the record of the woman in Rhode Island who carried her quintuplets for 35 weeks. 34 weeks and four days is great, we were all concerned he would give birth much earlier. They are pretty tiny, obviously, and they’ll probably be in the NICU for a couple of weeks just to make sure everything is fine, but Melissa called me last night and said that they are doing exceptionally well given the circumstances, so I’d say this calls for celebration!”

“Do they have names yet?” Kira asked, grinning excitedly as she snuggled against Scott, and Malia’s grin turned downright evil.

“They had four boys and one girl and you know how Greenberg always calls his strange husband ‘Cupcake’, right? Because they are both named Robert and used to go by Bobby? Well, apparently they turned that into a tradition. The boys are named Robert Papageno Johannes the Third, Robert Tamino Chrysostomus the Fourth, Robert Figaro Wolfgangus the Fifth, and Robert Cherubino Theophilus the Sixth. The girl’s name is Amadea Pamina Donna Elvira and good luck fitting that on her driver’s license.”

Cora clapped between Derek’s shoulders dutifully, his coughing almost drowned out by Erica’s wheezing laughter and Scott’s flustered exclamation of, “They are _all_ named Robert? Is that even legal?”

“Turns out Coach Cupcake is a bit more narcissistic than he likes to admit. Pretty sure they’ll all go by their middle names, though, and considering the wide range of illustrious opera character names out there I’d say they still got off lucky. Could have ended up as Hagen von Tronje, Wotan, Donner, Alberich, and Brünnhilde,” Stiles, who still looked a bit rattled, commented, raising his eyebrow at Derek when the older man looked at him dumbstruck, having previously unaware that Stiles was apparently familiar with the opera as well.

He would probably be one of these fathers who’d play Mozart to his in-utero child one day and win expectant father of the year award. If he was actually given the experience of being an expectant father that was, Derek thought bitterly, hating himself, the world, everyone, and everything, basically, not quite able to shake his gloomy mood until the end of the baby shower.

“Soon,” Cora repeated a couple of hours later, looking exhausted after a particularly lengthy bout of Braxton Hicks that had led her to actually call Melissa in her worry.

She was right, Derek thought as he curled up around the pregnancy pillow Erica had recently purchased for him, trying to find a position that wouldn’t hurt his tense back.

He didn’t need the increasing frequency of the practice contractions to realize that he was quickly running out of time.

 

===============

 

Stiles was in a horrible mood when he boarded the bus that stopped just a block from his new workplace, a mood that had steadily gotten worse ever since he had left Derek’s baby-shower feeling like the worst idiot on the planet.

Scott had once again told him to stop playing happy family with Derek, a strange undertone in his best friend’s voice that had set Stiles deeply on edge, and he wanted to smash something in frustration when he thought back to how _right_ it had felt to touch the pregnant man that way.

Yet, somewhere in New York was a man who had no idea he was about to become the father of Derek Hale’s baby, and the more attached Stiles allowed himself to become to the child because of his stupid, irrational, irresponsible, and lingering feelings for the child’s father, based on a glorified one night stand of all things, the more complicated it was going to get once said father finally figured it out and appeared to claim parental rights.

Stupid, lingering feelings that had only gotten worse every time he had seen Derek become aware of his baby, because the look on his face in these moments mirrored the one Stiles had fallen in love with exactly, the one he had directed at Stiles during that second time, free of anything sexual and instead full of warmth and affection.

Everyone deserved to be looked at that way, to feel like one was deeply and unconditionally loved, and he was probably starting to glorify the memory, especially since it had been so long ago now, but the more he saw Derek direct this look inside himself, towards the growing child, the more Stiles wanted to see that look directed towards him again.

On top of that they had almost insane physical chemistry and this chemistry was overruling every sane thought his brain had ever produced on the subject, leaving him with a hollow ache in his chest that wouldn’t go away, no matter what he did.

He was in love with the man, baby included, and it was breaking him apart, it was as simple as that.

However, he still stood by what he had said to Malia – Derek had more than enough on his plate right now and it was unfair to burden the man with his feelings, even if he was starting to doubt his initial conviction that the feelings were not reciprocated.

He sighed loudly, pulling his hood over his head and staring out of the window as he wondered just how much messier the entire situation was going to get.

Therefore, he almost missed it when a woman who seemed just as upset as him plopped down in the seat in front of him, apparently deep in conversation.

“Well I’m sorry for being late, Chris, but I can’t help it! The taxi driver who was supposed to pick me up refused to take me when he saw me, said he’d rather miss out on a day of pay than to drive me around and use my tip to put food on the table for his wife, daughter, and fucking carrier son! Peter is using all of the cars today because he’s having those RMA assholes over and apparently they are too fragile to take a damned cab!”

Stiles’ eyes widened as he realized who had just sat down in front of him, staring at the back of Laura Hale’s head and wondering if he could set her and her carrier-phobic views on fire by the sheer power of his thoughts alone.

“Of course I think they’re assholes, jeez, that Deucalion guy gives me the creeps! Always has! I might agree with them in theory, but that doesn’t mean I’m in favor of bombing carrier-clinics or some shit!”

She listened, her shoulders tensing even further.

“Well, what am I supposed to do about it? It’s not as if Peter actually listens to me, he’s been avoiding me ever since all of this blew up! Do you want me to show up at his place and drag him to our meetings? I have no clue what is going on with him!”

Chris was saying something again and Stiles only got “hard for all of us” when Laura interrupted him, her voice sharp.

“Am I supposed to feel sorry for you right now? So what if your daughter is avoiding you, at least you’ve still got your sister! Mine threw a set of keys in my face and almost nicked my eye! My uncle is avoiding me and my baby-brother is a fucking carrier who managed to get himself knocked up by the one person who could …”

She stopped abruptly, taking a deep breath, and Stiles held his own breath, aware that he was intruding into Derek’s privacy but too curious to help it.

“I know! I’m surprised they haven’t made that public yet either, but I’m not about to look a gift horse in the mouth! Told you from the beginning those ERC folks are fucking stupid!”

Chris said something again, his tone a lot harsher now, and Laura’s shoulders slumped, as if the fight had gone out of her.

When she spoke again she sounded almost heartbroken, the first emotion that wasn’t connected to hatred that Stiles had ever heard in her voice.

“I hate this Chris! I _hate_ it! I want my family back and I can’t because life is fucked up as shit! Some crazy carrier activist set my parents and grandparents on fire 16 years ago, and now I’ve lost my siblings because my brother had to be one of them and … _god_ , I fucking hate carriers! I hate that they exist, I hate that they can’t change, I hate that … _I hate this_!”

She had lowered her voice towards the end but Stiles could hear everything as clearly as if she had spoken to him directly and even though he was just about to shake her and tell her exactly what he thought of her he was also shocked to notice how broken she sounded.

“Hatred is the heaviest of all emotion, it wears you down eventually,” his father had always told him growing up and for the first time Stiles could clearly see what he meant.

He could see it in the way Laura Hale’s shoulders had slumped, the way she had bent her head, the way in which she was clutching her phone so tightly that her knuckles were almost white.

He wasn’t about to feel sympathy for her – Cora and Derek had grown up in the same family and Laura had obviously made a different choice than her siblings when she had jumped aboard the hatred train, but her views were clearly not making her happy, and as much as Stiles wanted to delight in her unhappiness he couldn’t bring himself to sink to that level.

The bus pulled up to the stop that Stiles had used to get off at when he had still worked at the Hale’s company and Laura muttered a quick, “Bye!” before standing up and positioning herself in front of the door.

Stiles was watching her, taking in the dark circles under her eyes and the gaunt, unhealthy look on her face and he startled badly when Laura suddenly turned directly towards him, shocked expression morphing into rage so quickly that it almost gave Stiles whiplash.

Granted, they had never been on good terms, but in his opinion he definitely did not deserve that kind of look.

The doors opened before Laura could say anything and when they did the other disembarking passengers all but herded the oldest of the Hale siblings outside.

Stiles quickly looked out the window, only to see her staring right at him, and he was surprised to see the beginnings of tears in her eyes as she mouthed something, her face still twisted with anger.

The encounter stayed with him all throughout his workday, weighing heavily on his mind as he went home, occupying his thoughts as he tidied up the once again free guestroom, and long after he had gone to bed, Laura’s words repeating in his head over and over as he twisted and turned without finding a comfortable position.

He eventually fell into an uneasy sleep and in his dreams he saw her staring at him through the bus’ window again, her mouth once more forming words that Stiles couldn’t make out.

His alarm jerked him out of the dream and Stiles felt like he hadn’t slept at all as he shuffled into the bathroom, his eyes still half-closed as he made a grab for the faucet to splash water on his face.

He looked into the mirror tiredly, mouthing along to the memory of Laura’s silent words and because he was staring at his reflection he essentially had first row seats to the moment when he realized just what he was saying, when the puzzle pieces of her entire conversation with Chris Argent connected with those words, forming a shocking picture.

“Your fault.”

He repeated them, staring at his reflection with wide eyes and grabbing the sink tightly to stop his hands from shaking.

That was what Laura had said.

Your fault.

His fault?

How could any of this be _his_ fault?

He had asked Derek if he was the father and Derek had denied it, very firmly so.

Only there had been that look on his face afterwards, the despair he had shown when Stiles had professed his relief.

It hadn’t made sense to him then and he had tried not to think about it.

Had tried not to think about the way Derek had seemed to almost soak up his touch, first during the Braxton Hicks incident, then at the baby shower.

Maybe Derek had _wanted_ him to be the father, him and not some random guy he had had unprotected sex with at the club, but that didn’t quite make sense, did it?

After all, he had looked like that _before_ he and Stiles had gotten closer again, back at a time when, for all intents and purposes, they had still been at an ideological war with each other.

“He told me I wasn’t the father,” Stiles whispered, staring into the mirror as if the answer could be found on the surface.

Knocked up by the only man in New York City who could … _what_?

Surprise that the ERC hadn’t already used the father’s identity for publicity purposes?

It couldn’t be him, he didn’t wield any real power and there were much more scandalous father figures for Derek’s baby that frequented the club on occasion, some of which Stiles had seen with his own eyes multiple times.

Only this time his efforts at rationalization were falling flat, his heart beating too loudly in his chest to focus on anything but the almost hysterical thought of _My baby, my baby, my baby_ , that was stuck on repeat inside his head.

Derek had told him it wasn’t his baby.

That was a fact.

However, he realized, his fingers gripping the sink so hard now that he could have broken it if it hadn’t been made out of solid material, he had never quite asked him directly.

Consequences could be ambiguous but “Am I the father of your baby?” really wasn’t.

He was probably going to lose his job, taking yet another spontaneous sick-day because of this entire mess, but he couldn’t wait until after he got off work later that day, his doubts so strong now that they were almost threatening to choke him.

He needed an answer.

And Derek was the only one who could give it to him.

 

=====================

 

Derek had been feeling incredibly restless ever since he had gotten up that morning, tired after a rather uncomfortable night of Braxton Hicks contractions, and the pressure in his back and lower abdomen had been steadily building all morning, making him feel more on edge than usual.

His younger sister had left for her first job interview an hour ago, looking like leaving him while he was feeling so under the weather was the last thing she wanted to do, but Derek had told her not to be ridiculous, arguing that he still had almost two months left until the baby’s due date and there was really no use for her to look like the child was just going to fall out of him any second now.

Cora had sighed dramatically but she had left nevertheless, though not without leaving him a breakfast sandwich that satisfied about all of his nutritional needs for the moment and Derek had just taken his first bite when someone started knocking at the door, taking him completely by surprise.

Derek had never heard someone knock at a door so _angrily_ before, in fact, and for a moment he felt as if his heart had gotten stuck in his throat, wondering if Laura, Peter, Kate, or – heaven forbid – Deucalion had decided to come pay him a visit.

“Who is it?” he called out, shoulders slumping in relief when Stiles answered, “It’s me, Stiles,” only to tense again when the tone of the man’s voice registered in his brain.

Stiles sounded broken, terrified, raw, but also angry, and when Derek opened the door he inhaled sharply, telling himself that he was getting paranoid, that the wounded look on Stiles’ face didn’t mean anything.

“Derek … can I … can I come in? I have to ask you something, I … _fuck_!”

Stiles trailed off, looking more vulnerable than Derek had ever seen him and he stepped aside, feeling utterly defeated.

Stiles knew. There was no doubt about it.

He couldn’t imagine Erica or Cora breaking his trust like that, not even out of loyalty to Stiles, and his mind jumped to Peter almost immediately, the glee on his uncle’s face as he had wondered about how Stiles would possibly take the news of his paternity.

Stiles hadn’t deserved to find out like this, not from his carrier-phobic uncle, and Derek felt guiltier than ever before as he looked at the man, who had sat down on the sofa and was staring at Derek’s belly as if he’d never seen it before, his hands clenching and unclenching on his thighs.

“Stiles, I …” Derek began, letting out a sound of frustration that the words were failing him even now, but feeling too overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the hurt on Stiles’ face and Stiles took a deep breath, eyes sliding up from Derek’s belly to his face as he visibly struggled for words.

“You … at the hospital. When I asked if that night had consequences. You said no. But … it wasn’t the right question, was it?”

Stiles’ voice sounded as if it had been rubbed with sanding paper, a pained sound punching out of him when Derek shook his head, forcing himself not to drop his gaze to the floor when Stiles jumped up from the sofa and walked towards him, stopping just out of his personal space.

“No. It wasn’t,” Derek said, sounding faint even to his own ears, and Stiles swallowed heavily, blinking rapidly, as if he was still trying to make all of this go away.

“Alright. Ok. _Fuck_ , I … ok.”

He took deep, gulping breaths, visibly struggling for his composure as he braced himself to look at Derek.

“Derek, am I …”

Stiles stopped, letting out a shaky breath as his voice failed him and Derek made a grab for his hands and pressed them against his abdomen, not quite sure how the gesture would be received but suddenly terrified that Stiles, who had shown so much affection towards the baby already, would, amidst all that was bad and twisted and complicated about the situation, forget that there was also something good that had come out of this, the tiny being that deserved to have two loving parents.

“That’s not a real answer, Derek,” Stiles whispered, voice frayed around the edges as he swallowed heavily and even though he didn’t remove his hands from Derek’s abdomen his tone had hardened when he looked back up at Derek, the hurt and fear replaced by stunned anger.

“Derek. Am I the father of this baby?”

There really was no use in saying it out loud, not when they both knew it to be true, but as he looked into Stiles’ eyes Derek knew that he couldn’t stay silent any longer.

It was one of the most basic words in the English language, short, to the point, more often than not positive and assertive, but it had never weighed as heavily on Derek’s tongue as it did in this moment.

“Yes.”

The baby kicked, almost as if to echo the sentiment, and this time Stiles didn’t remove his hands, his touch as firm and comforting as before, loving, in fact, as he spread his fingers just a little wider in an intrinsically protective gesture.

His eyes, however, were anything but loving.

For a brief moment they stared at each other like two gentlemen getting ready for a duel and as he watched Stiles grow whiter and whiter in his fury Derek had a startling realization.

Stiles had every right in the world to be furious at him right now, heck, at the entire situation even … but in all honesty, so had Derek.

And for the first time since that fateful night in early January he wasn’t about to stay silent any longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As with the last cliffhanger, I could have cliffed this a scene later, but this one is definitely the nicer one ;).
> 
>  
> 
> Next Update: Saturday  
> Chapter Title: Confrontations  
> Chapter Summary: Derek and Stiles have a massive fight, the Sheriff is extremely disappointed, Derek runs into some health complications, the Hale family background is revealed, and Peter makes a decision.


	18. Confrontations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek and Stiles have a massive fight, the Sheriff is extremely disappointed, Derek runs into some health complications, the Hale family background is revealed, and Peter makes a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I explain how this chapter works (the format is a bit different), let me first address the Cora/Malia issue.
> 
> I usually think things through when I write these stories, but - possibly because I didn't watch the fourth season of Teen Wolf except for some stuff Tumblr showed me, maybe because I refuse to see Canon!Malia as anything other than a plot element to keep Sterek apart and pay little attention to her within the fandom - the fact that in canon Malia and Cora would actually be related completely skipped my attention.
> 
> So completely that when someone mentioned it in the comments I smacked my forehead and uttered a German curse word, in fact. 
> 
> Therefore, let me stress that Cora and Malia are not (!!!) related in this verse, if they were I would have put warnings in the tags, I know that's something most people don't like to have sprung on them, but I would like to apologize if someone got squicked because he/she thought I was going to reveal the reason for Peter's hate was that he was Malia's dad and gave her away.
> 
>  
> 
> That being said (I edited the End Note of the first chapter where that becomes relevant, but I wanted to say it again in case people missed it), have fun with this chapter!
> 
> The italics part is Peter Hale's backstory, the non-italics takes place in the present of the story, so consider this the flashback episode of this story.
> 
> It'll answer a bunch of questions - some answers you will have to read between the lines - and somewhat foreshadows what's going to happen to certain members of the evil Troika of this story (Peter-Kate-Deucalion).
> 
> Also, it's super long, hence the long wait ;).

_1976_

_The Hale house had been built towards the end of the 18 th century and it had grown over time, much like the influence and societal capital of the family who owned it. It was a beautiful place, it’s attractiveness only – as some jested in a somewhat conflicted mixture of jealousy and regional pride – equaled by the members of the family itself, who were generally well liked, respected, sometimes even feared in the county. Many of them had dabbled in politics over the years, despite their somewhat unusual tradition to carry on the family name through both sons and daughters, which set them apart from most of the families around them. _

_As a result, every now and then a Hale matriarch had sat on a board among a plethora of patriarchs and Alpha males, demanding respect and receiving it, albeit often grudgingly so, a rather spectacular achievement in a male-oriented society._

_In 1976 Philippa Hale, the only child and much beloved daughter of a somewhat eccentric but nevertheless successful entrepreneur, had just been elected as county executive, despite her earlier reluctance to follow in her father’s and grandmother’s footsteps to become politically active._

_It was a step she hadn’t taken lightly, but with the advent of a carrier-rights movement on the horizon, following in line with other minority-rights movements that had swept across the nation in the 60s, Philippa Hale felt that she had no choice but to protect her home._

_Until the 1960s carriers had been a taboo-topic, but times were changing now and Philippa was determined to do everything in her power to prevent the county from jumping aboard the carrier-rights train._

_Not that she was too concerned about the issue, aware that the majority of the country thought like her, but this new direction had definitely set her nerves on edge._

_“I don’t understand why you’re so upset about this Mom! They’re just having babies; women do it all the time. What could possibly be so wrong about that?”_

_Her only child Talia, fourteen years old, fierce, strong, and, in Philippa’s eyes, regrettably naïve, had yet to understand the threat that carriers posed to women especially, but Philippa was determined to make her understand, just like her own father had taught her to be wary of the so-called men who were encroaching into female territory and trying to take away the one major aspect that set the genders apart, in a world that had only recently begun to consider women as valuable members of society at large._

_Philippa didn’t need her precocious child’s lectures to realize that, while not terribly uncommon, it was still somewhat unusual for a woman to be actively involved in anti-carrier politics, but after a life-time of proving her worth to the influential men around her she had adopted a rather black-and-white outlook on life and to her carriers represented a dangerous grey area._

_It wasn’t so much the rhetoric of abomination and perversion that had drawn her in, though she knew how to use it to her advantage, but rather her fear that the acceptance of carriers would lead to a dramatic reversal of all the advances women’s movements had made over the years._

_Though generally considered the weaker sex, a woman’s childbearing capabilities had often been considered her strongest asset, giving her a position of power in the household, even if it didn’t translate into society, and although most men were appalled and disgusted by the sight of a pregnant man for now, Philippa couldn’t shake the feeling that, once carriers had become revered members of society, they would be considered the ‘better women’, able to birth children while still retaining most of the characteristics that gave men advantages in the world and thus overturning all of the advances that had been made towards gender equality in recent years._

_“You’re being ridiculous paranoid Mom, you know that, right? And you’ve completely gotten the rhetoric wrong, they are using the childbearing thing as a comparison to women to hurt them, not undermine women at large! And besides, carriers aren’t ‘better women’, they’re **men** , that’s the bullies’ point! Also, quite frankly I highly doubt they’ll ever be revered of all things! Didn’t you hear Gerard Argent on television last night? If that man ever reveres a carrier I’ll eat my old stuffed wolf!” Talia had tried to explain to her just the other night and Philippa had sent her to her room, in no mood to deal with that level of disrespect._

_Talia was fortunate to gain her political and social awareness in a world that was increasingly viewing the sexes as equal and she had no concept of what it felt like to struggle to be heard, to be respected, to lead._

_Philippa had experienced all of these things, painfully aware that her father’s unconditional pride in his female heir was unusual, and she wasn’t about to go back to a time where the suppression of women had been common courtesy of the carrier movement’s propaganda._

_She was also, and even more painfully so, aware that there was another reason she didn’t like admitting to herself, and that reason had a lot to do with the room she was sitting in one late Saturday night, a steaming cup of tea sitting on the desk as she read through a memo from the last council meeting._

_The room was big, with large windows that faced the pond behind the house and once upon a time Philippa and her husband Andrew had fantasized about where to put a crib, a dresser, and a rocking chair._

_Only there had never been a crib inside this room, because due to complications during Talia’s birth it had become impossible for her to get pregnant again._

_While her strong belief in women’s rights made it difficult for her to resent another woman for being able to birth more than one child, carriers – especially expecting carriers – provided a much-needed punching bag for the despair and bitterness that she had nurtured inside for many years._

_Andrew had tried to be supportive as much as he could, devoting all of his attention to Talia to make sure the only child they would ever have would receive the best possible upbringing, but Philippa had occasionally been convinced she had seen the sorrow in his eyes, the silent accusation that she hadn’t been able to give him more children._

_They had had an argument about it seven years later, when an offhanded comment made by her husband had led Philippa to just unleash all of her hurt and fury at him._

_Andrew, a man who didn’t like to scream, had listened to her until the very end, his face turning paler and paler, and when she had been done he had taken a deep breath, holding her gaze steadily as he had said, “Maybe the person who’s really making the accusations here is **you**! Maybe you yourself believe you are a failure, and because you cannot reconcile that with your pride and your determination to prove your worth to everyone around you it makes you see those accusations in my eyes. Well, here’s my truth for you: I don’t think you’re a failure Philippa. I never have and I never will … but maybe **I** am the failure, because I cannot for the life of me understand what I must have done wrong for you to think so lowly of me.”_

_It had taken the wind out of her sails and, to an ever-growing extent, the affection out of her marriage._

_Philippa had apologized a day later and Andrew had accepted her apology, but he had not forgiven her, and they had continuously drifted apart in the past seven years, as Philippa had invested her energy into her political activities and Andrew had turned towards focusing on Talia even more._

_On the one hand it had become a point of resentment for Philippa, the realization that her only child had more affections for her father than her mother a tough pill to swallow._

_On the other hand she was also grateful to him, aware that Andrew’s dedication to raising Talia to become a strong, intelligent, independent young woman was near invaluable, and so she had arranged herself with the polite but distant state of her marriage as long as her daughter was not affected, drawing her strength from making a difference in the community instead._

_Philippa Hale knew the difference between right and wrong and she had no intention to walk away from the vow she had made almost 18 years ago, even if the bad times had long outweighed the good._

_And maybe it had been a masochist endeavor to set up her office in the room that had been supposed to be the nursery for their second child, but it also helped her keep her focus._

_On the night that would irrevocably alter the fragile harmony they had established since that long-ago fight Philippa was in a bad mood, reading through a memo regarding a petition to stop the county ban that prevented pregnant carriers from teaching in schools._

_The law was clear-cut for privately run and owned firms, but schools were under the government’s jurisdiction, and while Philippa and most of her colleagues were reasonably sure that, based on recent higher court decisions, the ban would be upheld, they were currently dealing with a very young, very idealistic new council member named Alan Deaton, fresh out of high school and seemingly hell-bent on fighting them every step of the way, citing discrimination law-suits with words she doubted he understood completely and arguing that the government should be upheld to a higher standard that private citizens._

_Philippa was reading through the man’s most recent statements when there was a hesitant knock on the door, followed by a quiet, “Can I come in Philippa?”and she sighed, not really in the mood for talking to her husband, who had seemed incredibly distracted as of late, but not wanting to cause a fight that would continue for days and make Talia, who hated it when her parents didn’t speak to each other, miserable._

_“Come in,” she called out, pushing the paper aside and looking up as Andrew stepped inside, his shoulders drawn up as if he was getting ready for a fight._

_Philippa raised her eyebrows, her instincts telling her that whatever her husband was about to say she probably wasn’t going to like._

_“It’s late,” she stated and Andrew chuckled without humor, the dark circles under his eyes telling her that he was well aware._

_“You should really start going to sleep earlier, you’ve been very lethargic for months,” she continued as Andrew sat down across from her heavily, his expression resigned._

_“We haven’t shared a bed in three years Pippa, I wonder how you’d even know at what time I go to sleep,” he said quietly and Philippa startled, suspicion turning into full on alert now._

_The last time Andrew had called her Pippa she had been heavily pregnant with Talia and they had been imagining their future, filled with many children, laughter, and happiness, and it simultaneously hurt and infuriated her to hear the old nickname again._

_She wasn’t Pippa anymore … hadn’t been for a long time._

_Whatever her husband was about to tell her was bad._

_Very bad._

_“What is going on?” she asked, trying to keep her voice calm but obviously failing when Andrew flinched, his arms wrapping around himself in a protective gesture and Philippa felt a surge of anger, mostly at herself for letting it get to this point but also at the man she had loved unconditionally once and who was apparently scared of her now._

_Philippa Hale hadn’t married a coward and she was certainly not going to see him turn into one without putting up a fight._

_“Andrew? What is it that you want to tell me?”_

_Andrew took a deep breath, hands gripping his upper arms tightly, as if he was trying to steady himself._

_“I made a mistake Pippa,” her husband said, swallowing heavily, and Philippa held up her hand, lips curling in cold amusement._

_“No,” she said firmly, shaking her head when indignation appeared in her husband’s eyes._

_“We are married and whatever … transgression happened with another woman I do not need to know the details of. We haven’t been ... intimate for a long time now and I know you have been seeing other women for at least the last two years. Oh, don’t look so surprised; did you really think I wouldn’t notice? If it had bothered me I would have said something, but I do understand that you have needs and when I was no longer willing to satisfy them you turned somewhere else. That might bother most women, but I am not ‘most’ women, as you well know.”_

_She took a deep breath, her voice cooler than ever._

_“I would have respected you more if you had come to me sooner, I am not going to lie, but as far as I am concerned we do not have to discuss this any further. Our marriage is … not what we thought it was going to be, but I have adapted and so have you. That’s what we do, we adapt. All I ask of you is that you do not embarrass me. And I in turn will not embarrass you – like I promised in my vows on our wedding day. So if you came to me to confess your affairs then …”_

_“Affair. It was just one,” Andrew said softly and Philippa let out a cold chuckle, shaking her head sardonically._

_“How **honorable** of you. Alright. As long as you keep your mistress away from our daughter and this home I neither want to know what you do nor is it of much concern to me. You are free to make your choices as long as they only affect you and not this family, so if you’d excuse me, I would like to get back to my …”_

_“I don’t have a **mistress**!” Andrew interrupted her, a note of desperation in his voice now and Philippa’s eyebrows travelled towards her hairline, a look of disbelief on her face that was quickly replaced with indignation._

_“I see. Another man, then. Well, as I said, do not embarrass me. Of course the risk is significantly lower, but …”_

_“What exactly do you mean by ‘embarrass’?” Andrew interrupted her, voice strangely choked now and Philippa exhaled sharply, angry at being interrupted a second time._

_“You know very well what I mean! Be careful! You never know if someone is one of … **them** … and I would rather like to avoid a scandal like that, especially when I was elected on a platform that promised to keep that kind of perversion out of the eye of the public and away from our children.”_

_“Perversion,” Andrew muttered, looking away, and Philippa sighed, wondering just how much her husband and his nonchalant attitude towards the entire carrier-issue had influenced the radical ideas of her daughter._

_“You don’t even believe that yourself,” he continued and Philippa’s gaze hardened._

_“I don’t see why that is the point right now, but I will spell it out for you if you want. Do **not** get one of these ‘men’ pregnant. I understand that you seek the affection I can no longer give you, I truly do, so I will condone this as long as it stays between you and whatever male lover you take, but do not do … **that** to me. That is literally the only thing I will never be able to forgive. Especially considering … well. You know well enough. If you ever respected me at all you will make sure that doesn’t happen! Promise me! And we will never have to speak about this again.”_

_“I always respected you Pippa! I loved you! Long after you stopped returning my love, in fact, but I never stopped respecting you! That might seem like a farce to you after I just admitted to you that I … but I never wanted to disrespect you! I just wanted to …”_

_“To be loved. I know. And I do wish I could do that for you, I truly do. But I’m not Pippa anymore, and when she went away she took … a lot.”_

_Philippa frowned, surprised at the tears that were suddenly glistening in her husband’s eyes._

_Andrew hadn’t cried since the day the doctor had told them there would be no second child and when she looked at him closer she almost felt concerned, the first strong emotion she had been able to spare towards her husband for a long time now._

_He **had** been acting increasingly weird in the past five months, looking worn, gaunt, and tired, and for the first time she wondered if her husband was ill, dread pooling in her gut as she imagined what such news would do to Talia._

_There had been rumors lately; rumors of diseases that afflicted men who slept with men, and Philippa braced herself, the feeling of alarm growing exponentially worse._

_“Andrew? Did he … this man … did he give something to you? Are you … are you ill? Is that the mistake?”_

_Andrew barked out a surprised laugh, shaking his head as the first tears ran down his cheeks._

_“I’m not **ill** , Pippa,” he whispered and at the sight of his tears Philippa felt a long forgotten emotion stirring inside her, buried under years of pain, resentment, and mostly self-inflicted loneliness._

_Andrew never cried and the fact that he was doing it now meant that someone had seriously harmed him._

_She was not ready to address the emotional harm that she herself had caused her husband, but Philippa Hale was not about to let an outsider get away with hurting another member of the Hale family, whether they were Hale blood or not._

_“What did this man do to you Andrew? If he didn’t give you anything then what did he do?” she asked, trying to sound gentle as she hurried around the desk and knelt in front of him, hesitating only the briefest of moments before she placed her hands on his knees, squeezing lightly._

_“But he did give me something! I swear Pippa I didn’t know he could … if I had known I would have never … I **didn’t know**!”_

_There were more tears and Philippa looked up at him, feeling scared, confused, and angry at whoever was the cause of this, yet also impatient to finally get to the root of the problem._

_“What didn’t you know, Andrew? What did he give you?”_

_“He said he had never been tested but that there had been carriers in his family and he was afraid it would spark rumors if he went to one of those clinics, so I decided that … god, Pippa, I am so sorry, I never meant for this to happen!”_

_Philippa’s grip on her husband’s legs tightened, squeezing so hard that it must have been painful as she stared at him in shock, shock that quickly turned to betrayal._

_“Are you … are you saying that … no! No! It can’t be, I … are you trying to tell me another man had the baby I couldn’t …”_

_Andrew let out a ragged sob and Philippa yanked her hands away as if she had touched molten lava, her fury making the blood rush in her ears as she stood up, towering over her husband._

_“Does he want money? Power? Is he blackmailing you? Do we need to call our lawyer? I swear to you, if this ruins me politically I’ll …”_

_“No! Pippa, no! You’ve got it all wrong, you …”_

_“What the hell is there to get wrong? I couldn’t give you another baby, but you never stopped wanting it, did you? So you went and found yourself a better model, a carrier, who could give you as many children as you wanted! Were we not good enough for you? How could you do this to me, to our daughter, how …”_

_“Pippa!” Andrew yelled, standing up as well and stepping towards her, his expression broken._

_“Pippa, I didn’t get this man pregnant! He left me three months ago, he doesn’t even know that I … that we … that I … that I’m …”_

_He trailed off, sounding angry, terrified, and heartbroken all at once and Philippa suddenly felt faint, refusing to accept the meaning behind her husband’s stuttered words._

_“No! **Please** , no!” she whispered, a pained whimper spilling from her lips and her eyes widening in horror when her husband unbuttoned his shirt with shaking fingers, exposing a soft curve that seemed almost alien on his otherwise slim frame. _

_“No!” she repeated, not able to tear her eyes away from the protrusion as her husband placed his hands on his stomach, cradling it as protectively as he had once cradled their growing daughter inside of her._

_What had felt so right then felt horribly wrong now and she swallowed the bile that had risen up in her throat, her heart beating wildly._

_“Pippa … Philippa! I … **we** need your help … please!” he whispered, his gaze pleading as he looked into his wife’s horrified eyes._

_Philippa took a deep breath, a myriad of thoughts and emotions swirling inside her brain as she stared at her husband, eyes glued to the roundness of his midsection._

_It wasn’t big yet, probably wouldn’t become as large as that of a woman, though that was mostly based on observations rather than conclusive medical studies, and she tried to determine how far along he was, her mind almost feverishly wondering if there was any chance to stop this from happening._

_A ripple went across Andrew’s belly, the barest outline of a little knob becoming visible under the stretched skin and Philippa did the only thing she felt she could do, the only thing that made sense to her right now._

_She screamed._

===============

 

“I’m the other father.”

Stiles sounded calm but Derek had fought with him on television plenty enough to know that there was a storm brewing just underneath the surface, a storm that was about to blow up right into his face as they were still standing in kissing-distance – though that was currently the last thing on either of their minds.

Derek could feel Stiles’ fingers almost digging into his skin and then unclenching, as he seemed to continuously remind himself that he couldn’t hurt the person carrying his baby.

 “Stiles …” Derek began, not even sure how to start, but Stiles held up his hand with a sharp shake of his head, his teeth clenched as he slowly let out a breath, removing his hands from Derek’s abdomen and taking a step backwards.

“This is my baby. Has been this whole time,” Stiles stated, his tone flat, as if he was in shock, and Derek nodded silently, swallowing and wetting his lips when his throat clogged up.

“You’re having my baby. I got you pregnant that night after the reception,” Stiles continued, more to himself than to Derek and Derek nodded again, finally getting his voice back.

“I’m having your baby,” he confirmed once more, flinching when Stiles let out a strangled sound of laughter.

“How?! Just … _how?_ We used protection! What happened! Did you …”

He broke off, shaking his head harshly; something very ugly flitting across his face, and Derek didn’t even want to know what he had been about to ask.

“My condom was expired. And yours might have been damaged because you kept it in your wallet ... One of them broke.”

“ _Obviously_!” Stiles snapped, angry flushes spreading over his cheeks.

“Who doesn’t check if his condoms are expired!” he exclaimed, tugging at his hair in frustration and Derek took a sharp breath, eyes narrowing.

“Who doesn’t know you don’t keep condoms in your fucking wallet?” he snapped back and Stiles glared heatedly.

“Oh really? If you were so knowledgeable on that, why didn’t you keep your legs closed when I pulled it out?”

To his credit Stiles looked horribly ashamed the second the words were out of his mouth, but Derek wasn’t in the mood to acknowledge it.

“And who doesn’t check the wrapper before putting a stranger’s condom on one’s own dick!” he replied loudly and Stiles held up his hands, his expression pained.

“I promised myself I wasn’t going to get loud, no matter what the answer was going to be, so we need to start again, quieter this time,” he said firmly, once again stepping towards Derek as he visibly tried to calm himself.

“Ok. Here’s how I see it and you have to correct me if I’m getting anything wrong.”

He took a deep breath, gaze dropping down towards Derek’s belly again, as if he still couldn’t quite believe it was there in the first place.

“I slept with you on the night of the reception. You didn’t know you were a carrier and _both_ of us didn’t think to double-check the condoms. One of them broke and I got you pregnant. Are you really, one-hundred percent sure it’s mine?”

“Why? Because I’m a carrier and we all sleep around, damn the consequences?”

Derek’s words were bitter and Stiles let out a sound of frustration.

“Oh for fuck’s sake! Do _not_ put something in my mouth I didn’t say! No! Heavens, no! But I saw you at that club the Monday after. You were about to go in and you know just as well as I do that no one ever goes in there without wanting to fuck someone!”

“I didn’t even go in, ok? I couldn’t, because _you_ came stumbling out with that curly-haired friend of yours and I …”

“Alright, alright, ok!”

Stiles took a deep breath and Derek’s shoulders slumped, his voice tired.

“It was only you,” he said quietly and Stiles let out a soft laugh, shaking his head slowly.

“Should have listened closer to what Erica and Cora were saying about your dating habits and actually believe them,” he muttered, clearing his throat with a grimace.

“Ok, so I got you pregnant and then you didn’t realize anything was off until …”

“Until the baby started kicking. That’s when I knew for sure. I had noticed something was off back in February, but I never thought it would be … that.”

Stiles cocked his head, considering.

“Well, who would have, I guess. Ok, so then you realized you’d been misdiagnosed and until you fainted in Central Park you didn’t go to a doctor, correct?”

Derek nodded, looking at the other man sharply when Stiles threw up his hands in exasperation.

“Why would you not go to a doctor? I … damn it! I punched you in that bathroom! I could have seriously hurt the baby and you didn’t even think about going to a doctor?”

“In a back-alley? Which would have been the only way to do that without attracting attention? I was the public face of the anti-carrier rights movement for _months_ , do you honestly believe there wouldn’t have been _someone_ who would have sold that information? And what would _you_ have done, huh? Announced it to everyone on the front page?”

“Of course not! But I wouldn’t have hidden it from my friends, my family, hell, the other _father_! Cora had no idea this was happening, neither did Erica, or else they would have never allowed you to go on television and I honestly get why you would hide this from Peter and Laura, but _Cora_? Did you ever for one second stop to think how much you were hurting her?”

Stiles’ agitated pacing had moved them towards the kitchen counter separating the kitchen area from the living room, giving Derek the opportunity to slam his fist down on the surface hard, his eyes furious.

“This is _not_ about Cora and you have no right to talk to me about my relationship with my sister! Besides, we’re dancing around the _real_ issue, aren’t we? Come on, lay it on me, don’t be shy, you’re going to anyways, so how we just rip off the band-aid quickly?”

Stiles retaliated by slamming both fists on the other side of the counter, breathing harshly.

“Why the _fuck_ didn’t you tell me? How long would you have waited if I hadn’t worked it out myself? Another month? Until you went into labor? Until after you’d given birth? I _get_ why you didn’t tell me before – I would love to say I don’t, but I do, I truly do! But I’ve known you are pregnant for more than a month now! And I bent over backwards to make sure you understand I wanted to be supportive, even though I didn’t even know it was mine! We took a _Lamaze_ class together! Hell, I took you to the hospital and you were grabbing my hand as if … well, as if I was the father, wow, at least that one makes sense now! And after? After?”

He trailed off, shaking his head as if to clear it.

“I told you my family’s deepest secret that afternoon, ok? My father could lose everything if you went and told someone else, but I trusted you because I wanted to explain to you why I couldn’t act any differently, why I felt so bad for everything! You could have told me then! Why didn’t you? Why the _fuck_ didn’t you?”

Derek placed his other hand on the counter; partly to steady himself and partly to keep himself upright, as a sharp twist of pain surged through his back.

He forced himself to breathe as deeply as he could, feeling Stiles’ eyes on him intently.

“Are you done?” he asked through clenched teeth and when Stiles nodded he straightened as much as he could while his back was still cramping like that, expression determined.

“When I wanted to explain the situation with Danny you screamed at me and then stormed out of my office! You never even tried to listen to me! And then, when you thought I’d told you that you weren’t the father, you practically yelled ‘thank god’ and rambled on like an idiot before I could say anything further! You didn’t listen! You didn’t _want_ to listen! How was I supposed to start a conversation with someone who didn’t want to hear what I had to say to begin with?”

“I apologized for that!” Stiles snapped and Derek shook his head.

“No! You explained to me why you did it, but you never apologized! It doesn’t matter anyways, what matters is that I had to think about my baby and I …”

“ _Our_ baby! Not just yours! And what are you trying to say? Did you believe that I would just tell you to go away, scream at you, tell you I wanted to have nothing to do with my own _child_?”

“You’re screaming at me now!” Derek yelled and Stiles let out a pained groan, tugging at his hair.

“I’m screaming because I’m angry!” Stiles yelled back, breathing heavily and clenching his hands into fists once more as he looked away.

They were both quiet for a moment and when Derek looked up next Stiles was hovering just in front of him, expression devastated.

“Did you really think I would want nothing do with my own baby? Family means _everything_ to me and I thought I’d made that clear when we had that talk two weeks ago! I just … Derek, do you really think so little of me that you felt you had to keep me away from my own child?”

Derek stared at the counter, breathing in and out, trying to get his heart back under control.

The pain in his back had returned, probably brought on by all the tension that had his entire body thrumming like an electric wire, and he almost felt nauseous, not only because of the pain but also because of Stiles’ words, the way he had gotten at least that part so completely wrong.

“Derek? You look like you’re about to fall over, do you need to sit down?”

Stiles still sounded angry but Derek could tell he was concerned and as much as he didn’t want to sit right now, feeling like it would make him seem too vulnerable to have this conversation, he quickly realized that he had to.

Stiles took a step back as he pushed himself off the counter and slowly made his way to the couch, looking like he wanted to assist him but feared that Derek would rip his arm off instead and once he was seated Derek too another deep breath, expression sad.

“I never thought you wouldn’t love the child! I’ve listened to you talk about carrier baby rights often enough to know you would have never abandoned it. And when you told me about your father and your dziadek I … I’m glad the baby will have you in its life. If you don’t believe anything else, that’s something I really need you to trust me on.”

“Then _why_ didn’t you tell me?”

Stiles sounded heartbroken as he knelt in front of Derek and Derek looked him straight in the eye, trying to find an answer that would make sense.

“I was … I was scared,” he said softly and Stiles made a pained noise.

“That I would be a horrible father?”

“No ... that’s … no. I just told you that’s not it. I wasn’t scared for the baby, I was scared for … for _me_. For us.”

“Derek,” Stiles whispered, this time reaching out and placing his palms on the other man’s stomach, rubbing lightly.

“I would jump off a cliff before I’d ever hurt this baby and I’ll do everything in my power that it’ll grow up to be happy, healthy, and very much loved! You never had to worry about that even for a second, heck, I would have told you the same had you informed me of this while I was busy snapping at you after I stole your debate cards. But Derek … there _is_ no ‘us’ right now, hasn’t been for months, you know that, right?”

Derek sighed brokenly, closing his eyes to stop himself from tearing up.

“Derek …”

Stiles sounded about as broken as Derek felt and when he opened his eyes he was startled to see tears in the younger man’s eyes.

“I found out you’re having my baby like a minute ago! And before that we tried to figure out if we could be at least friends while I thought I was going insane because I was jealous of some stranger I didn’t even know who’d be lucky enough to be Honey-Bunny’s daddy! And before that we fought for seven months and I tried to hate you with everything I had! And through it all you lied to me and part of me gets why you did it but … you still _lied_! It’s not … it’s not going to be that simple!”

Derek stared, frowning.

“You … you were jealous? Why?”

“Because I … Derek please … let’s not do this right now, ok? There’s a part of me that wants to do the right thing and make an honest man out of you right this moment because of the baby, but all the other parts are screaming that it wouldn’t mean anything! Not like this! I can’t do this right now; can you understand that? I … what exactly do you want to hear from me right now?”

“I don’t know,” Derek said softly, meaning it, and Stiles exhaled slowly.

“That makes two of us, I guess. Listen, and listen to me carefully. I’m going to love this baby with everything I have! I promise you that. And I’ll respect you as my baby’s father, because I would never in a million years take that away from you, just as I hope you won’t try to keep the baby away from me. But I don’t know if there can be an ‘us’ after all of this. Right now I don’t even trust myself to say whether or not I want there to be. I’m going to need time,” Stiles continued softly and Derek sighed, resting his hand below Stiles’.

“I understand that. My feelings are all over the place as well, to be perfectly honest,” he said, feeling hollow, and Stiles nodded, sighing softly.

He was still stroking Derek’s belly lightly and when he looked up his eyes were shining with concern.

“Your belly is really hard,” he said, gently feeling across the curve and Derek, whose back was once again acting up, shrugged.

“It’s been hard ever since I started showing, it’s normal.”

“Are you sure? You are also rather pale, you know.”

Derek couldn’t stand the concern on his face, not after he had just told him that he wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to love him the way Derek felt for him, and he grasped Stiles’ hands firmly but gently, lifting them off his stomach, trying not to wince at the pained look on the man’s face.

“I’ve had a stressful morning. I’ll be fine once I’ve had some rest,” he answered and Stiles frowned, still looking worried.

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve been doing this pregnancy-thing for a while. I’m sure.”

“If you say so,” Stiles muttered as he stood up, crossing his arms over his chest as if he wasn’t quite sure what to do with his hands.

“So … when is it due?”

“28th of September. Technically.”

“ _Technically_?” Stiles repeated the word slowly, frowning.

“Why would you say it like that? Like … like you didn’t think that was going to happen?”

He was watching Derek carefully, inhaling sharply as the expression on the pregnant man’s face came close to fear.

“What are you not telling me? There’s something else, is there?”

Derek had been prepared for more anger but Stiles sounded scared now, and it gave Derek the strength to look up, facing him directly as he finally voiced one of his currently two biggest fears out loud, the one he could actually share with people without having to live in fear of Peter’s revenge and risking his already fragile baby’s health.

“The baby is very small.”

“Small? Like … all babies?” Stiles answered, frown deepening and Derek shook his head.

“No. It’s _too_ small. Under the 10 percentile-small. Babies like that are called growth restricted babies and … there can be a lot of complications.”

“ _Complications_? Like what?”

Stiles’ voice was merely a whisper now and he should have probably led with the less severe complications, something like jaundice, but Derek couldn’t take it anymore, too worn down from keeping the baby’s struggle from everyone.

“Stillbirth,” he answered softly, inhaling sharply when the baby delivered one of its sharpest kicks yet, as if to keep him from thinking along these lines.

“My baby is going to _die_?”

Stiles’ voice was all broken shards of glass and open wounds and there was nothing Derek wanted more than to be able to tell him no, that it was not going to come to the worst, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie again.

Not to Stiles.

“I need to … fuck, Derek, I need … I want … I have to go! I have to think … away from here! Sorry, I … fuck! Sorry! I need to go!”

Stiles stumbled out of the loft as if he was drunk, as if someone had hit him over the head and he was still dizzy from the impact, and technically that was exactly what Derek had done.

As the door fell shut behind the man Derek hunched over on the couch, fingers digging into his thighs as he tried to breathe steadily, both to calm himself and to breathe away the persistent pain in his back.

Stiles was going to love the baby with everything he had, there was no doubt about it, the realization a huge weight off his chest.

But he had no idea how the two of them were going to be able to move past this.

 

===============

_1976_

_August of 1976 was the hottest New York City summer in the history of recorded temperatures, the air heavy and humid, clinging to everyone’s skin like a stifling blanket and making it hard to breathe, the only reprieve found inside cool stone-buildings or near an AC unit._

_After the second council-member had collapsed during the regularly scheduled meetings the county government had unanimously ruled to suspend the duties of governing until such a time when everyone could actually think straight again … without the ever present danger of keeling over from the heat._

_To no one’s surprise nobody had been more grateful than Philippa Hale, who, to the county elite’s surprised but joyful delight, was heavily pregnant with her and Andrew’s second child, a true miracle baby after they had tried for so long and considering her age of almost 45._

_Philippa had long been a well-respected community leader, having worked hard to be taken seriously by her peers, and the sheer effortless way in which she hadn’t let her second pregnancy deter her from her duties had impressed everyone._

_She neither waddled nor moved clumsily, her stride as firm and purposeful as ever as she walked through the corridors of city hall, as if her round stomach wasn’t weighing her down at all, and there were more than just a few people who were looking forward to seeing the newest little Hale, speculation about whether he or she would be as beautiful and smart as Talia running wild as the gossip buzzed along telephone lines and around the water-coolers in the late summer of 1976._

_“And how brave of you to tackle this without dear Andrew by your side, he must be heartsick to have broken both of his legs in a riding accident of all things. He was such a protective dear the last time around, I hope he gets to pamper you at least a little, even if it is from the confinement of a bed,” Philippa’s secretary had told her after the last council meeting and Philippa had smiled sweetly, assuring her that she felt like the most loved woman in the world on a daily basis and that she was hopeful Andrew’s complicated fractures would soon heal, everything about her the picture-perfect example of a proud, loving, heavily pregnant family matriarch._

_It was a role that Philippa played very well, having imagined herself expecting their second, third, or even fourth child more than once since the trauma that had been Talia’s birth and even though wearing the fake belly made her want to scream constantly she was able to keep those screams silent, their stirring the only movement she could feel inside as her fake belly grew right on schedule with that of her husband._

_Talia had been born at the beginning of April and therefore Philippa had no experience with being pregnant during a hot summer, but then again she would have found it hard to sympathize regardless as she watched her expecting husband struggle in the last weeks of his pregnancy, the scorching heat making him utterly miserable, nauseous, and feeling faint constantly._

_Besides her and Andrew there were only three people who knew and each had been sworn to secrecy, one by familiar loyalty, one by the Hippocratic oath, and the last by threat of a heavy lawsuit, and on the night Andrew went into labor Philippa was glad for their presence, allowing her to remove herself from the situation entirely._

_The humidity had been at almost a 100 percent since the early morning hours and Andrew had been restless and in terrible back-pain all day, one hand constantly cradling his heavy belly to take the pressure off as he had moved around the house, shadowed by a worried Talia._

_Their daughter, once she had gotten over the initial shock that her beloved daddy had cheated on her mother, had embraced her imminent future as a big sister wholeheartedly, and in her weaker moments Philippa could barely stop herself from calling her beloved only child a traitor._

_Their family physician Doctor Patterson, a very conservative old man with no love for carriers, had been extremely reluctant to oversee the rest of Andrew’s pregnancy, not only because of his lack of OBGYN training as a general practitioner but also because of his political ideology, but he had been sympathetic to Philippa’s plight, aware that the news of this could ruin one of the oldest families in the city._

_He had arrived an hour after Andrew had collapsed on the living room floor with a back spasm so painful he had screamed in agony and by the time Maryanne, their resolute housekeeper who had been with them ever since Talia’s birth, and Talia herself had managed to drag her laboring husband to his room, Philippa was halfway convinced he would die._

_Talia’s birth had been traumatic, but she couldn’t remember there being **this** much blood and it wasn’t until Patterson had arrived that she realized that the blood was there because the birth canal first had to form before it could dilate enough to let the baby out, confirming once and for all that men simply weren’t meant for this._

_Philippa had only ever used the words ‘abomination’ and ‘perversion’ without really meaning them, but as the screams continued long into the night she finally understood why people resorted to such heavy language._

_“Mommy! Please! We need you in there!”_

_Philippa, who had fled to the living room to be as far away from the dreaded event as possible, looked up sharply, taking in the quivering lips of her daughter and her wide, terrified eyes._

_The larger her husband’s stomach had grown – and she had not been expecting that at all, having formerly been convinced that pregnant men carried rather small compared to women – the less she had been able to look at him, hating herself for the bitter jealousy she felt every single time she noticed the child moving through his clothes, the weakness it spoke towards her own character._

_There was finally going to be a second child in the house … but it wouldn’t be **hers** and even though Talia – infuriatingly soft and naïve Talia – seemed convinced that her mother would learn to love the little baby just like her own, Philippa knew deep in her heart that she would despise the child with everything she had, resenting herself for it but unable to change._

_“Mommy, please! I’m scared, I can’t do this without you!”_

_Talia was begging, tears running down her face and Philippa could see the knowledge that her husband might not make it through this reflected in her daughter’s hazel eyes, eyes that were remarkably like her father’s._

_“Daddy needs you, please!” she continued, letting out a terrified whimper when Philippa remained frozen._

_Another blood-curdling scream rang through the house and Talia whimpered again, shaking all over and against her better knowledge Philippa couldn’t handle it anymore, couldn’t stand to see her child suffer like this and hating Andrew fiercely for doing this to all of them._

_She grabbed Talia’s hand resolutely, noticing grimly that her teenage daughter, who had tried to lecture her so many times in the past months, was suddenly very small and fragile again, just a little girl afraid for her daddy._

_The sight that greeted her in Andrew’s bedroom – the room that had once been reserved for a third baby – was as gruesome as she had expected and when Talia grabbed her father’s hand Philippa calmly wondered how much blood he had already lost to be so pale._

_When she rested the back of her hand against his forehead she was startled to feel how cold he was and no, this definitely wouldn’t do._

_Her husband was not going to die and leave her to raise his bastard spawn and so she pushed the doctor aside resolutely, taking a look at the proceedings herself and willing herself not to throw up at the bloody, torn, unfamiliar hole between Andrew’s shaking legs._

_“Why isn’t this progressing further? He is fully dilated, I don’t even need to measure!” she snapped and the doctor wrung his hands nervously, frustration evident in his eyes._

_“Sometimes the child just … doesn’t cooperate. And he’s lost so much blood already that he barely has strength to push … we might have to cut him open to get the child out safely, but if I do that here he could …”_

_“Don’t die Daddy, please!” Talia cried out, her tear-streaked face pushed against her father’s shoulder and whatever Andrew had been trying to respond was lost in another scream, even more pained than the last._

_Philippa took a deep breath, rolling up her sleeves as she went around the bed and positioned herself right above the center of her husband’s stomach._

_“If the child is not cooperating we will **make** it cooperate!” she snapped, the words the only warning her husband got before she pushed her elbow into his stomach with all her might, causing him to howl in pain and Talia to screech in alarm._

_“What are you doing Mommy, you’re **killing** it!” she cried, struggling against Maryanne, who had wrapped her arms around her to stop her from interfering._

_“Hush Talia dear!” she exclaimed frantically and Philippa acknowledged her with a nod, taking absolutely no joy from her husband’s agonized howls when she pushed down again._

_Her mother, a trained midwife, had spoken of situations like these and under normal circumstances Philippa would have never even attempted it, aware of the risks one took without proper medical training, but the baby needed to come out now, before it killed her husband, leaving Talia without a father and Philippa with a home broken beyond repair._

_“There we go, I see a head!” Patterson interrupted her concentration and she immediately took her hands away, barely noticing that this was the first time she had actually touched her husband in months._

_As she moved towards the foot of the bed she felt like some magnet was pulling her in, making it impossible for her to look away even though all of her instincts were telling her to run._

_When the head breached the birth canal she gasped, stunned against her own will, and when the last contraction pushed the baby out completely Andrew let out a hoarse sound, too weak to scream anymore._

_“I have to stop the bleeding!” Patterson gritted out, hands moving quickly and efficiently and before Philippa could protest the baby was nestled in her arms, bloody, gooey, and wrinkly, its head almost grotesquely cone-shaped and speaking of the lengthy and strenuous birth._

_When it began to wiggle she almost dropped it, regaining her grasp on the slippery, tiny infant just in time and exhaling sharply when the child let out a loud scream, sounding angrier than any newborn scream she had ever heard._

_For a moment, Philippa wondered if the child was protesting its own existence, aware of the shame it had brought down upon the Hale name._

_“Please be ok Daddy, please be ok!” Talia was sobbing in the background and Philippa snapped out of her daze, her mind made up as she looked at her daughter sternly._

_“Talia! Come and help me with the baby, your father needs rest!” she ordered, leaving her husband to the doctor and Maryanne’s attempts from keeping him from bleeding out as she almost dragged her crying daughter out of the room, not wanting her to see her father die if it indeed came to that._

_“Make sure you support its neck!” she told Talia when they reached the bathroom, pushing the baby into her arms._

_As she filled the sink with warm water Talia’s frantic breathing evened out slowly, the miracle of the baby in her arms seeming to finally register with her._

_“Mommy, look! He’s beautiful!” she whispered and Philippa blinked, not even having thought of checking for the baby’s gender._

_“Daddy was so sure it was another little girl, I hope he’s not disappointed!” Talia said breathlessly, her fear for her father’s life seeming momentarily forgotten as she smiled at her baby brother and Philippa huffed softly, gesturing for Talia to place the baby in the sink._

_“Is Daddy going to be ok?” the frightened teenager asked, her voice shaking as she watched Philippa clean the baby quickly and efficiently and when the boy was swaddled in a towel Philippa turned towards her, nodding._

_“He is going to be ok. He lost a lot of blood, but so did I when you were born. There might not be any more **surprise babies** , but he’s going to be ok,” she said firmly and Talia deflated, her face scrunching up as more tears streamed down her face._

_“I was so scared Mommy!” she whispered and when she clung to her Philippa accepted her embrace, one hand firmly placed on the crying baby’s belly to stop it from falling off the bathroom counter._

_“I’m going to check on your father, do you want to stay here with your bro … your **brother**?” she asked as calmly as she could and Talia nodded, carefully picking him up and rocking him in her arms._

_“I hope your head is not going to stay that way, or else you’ll be picked on mercilessly in school,” she whispered to the baby, laughing shakily, and Philippa closed the bathroom door softly behind her, trusting her daughter to watch the child for the time being._

_The windows of her husband’s room had been opened by the time she stepped inside but she could still smell the blood, which, given the amount she could still see on the sheets, was not at all surprising._

_“I managed to stop the bleeding, but he lost a **lot** of blood, Philippa,” the doctor said gruffly, weariness clear in his voice as he cleaned his hands with a towel._

_“He’ll be just fine Ma’m, carrier births are always a bit harder than female ones,” Maryanne said compassionately, trailing a cool washcloth over Andrew’s pallid face._

_“He’ll take a while to recover, that’s for sure!” Patterson added, smiling grimly as Maryanne lifted a glass of water to the almost unconscious man’s lips._

_“Philippa,” he added, voice hushed, and when she turned towards him he was holding a clipboard and a pen, a pinched expression on his face._

_“I have to fill out the birth certificate, but before I do that … are you **absolutely** , one-hundred percent sure you want to go through with this? There is still time to put him in an orphanage and we can say you lost the baby during the birth. After what almost happened with Talia no one will question it.”_

_If she was completely honest about it, there was nothing Philippa Hale wanted to do more in that particular moment, with her husband lying deathly still in front of her and the stench of blood in the air, but she also knew that she had no choice._

_Talia had always wanted a sibling and she had been old enough not to be oblivious to what was going on with her father, which was the only reason Philippa had gone through the hassle of faking the pregnancy in the first place, the look in her daughter’s eyes whenever she had felt the baby move through her father’s skin an ever-present reminder that getting rid of the child would also mean losing her only baby-girl forever._

_“It’s the right thing to do,” she said, feeling numb inside, and the doctor clucked his tongue, his expression making it clear that he disagreed._

_“He’s a carrier-baby, probably a carrier himself, do you really want to burden yourself with this Philippa? As soon as I put your name on that birth certificate he’ll be entitled to at least part of your family fortune by law and even if you write him out of your will he’ll still get at least a settlement, although he’s not even a real Hale! Is that really worth it?”_

_Philippa leveled a harsh glare at the man, her eyebrows raised dangerously._

_“I am well aware of the consequences, but I will not place my daughter’s brother in an orphanage because it was the easy way out! Hales have never done things the easy way out and whether I like it or not that boy was born in the Hale house, by a man wearing the Hale name, and therefore he’ll be raised as a Hale!” she said firmly and Patterson sighed._

_“Only he won’t be a true Hale and you’ll always know! Think about it, Philippa. Will you really be able to move past this? Because I’ve known you for a long time and if I may be frank, it might be better for that boy to grow up in an orphanage than …”_

_“He is a Hale!” she repeated, her tone leaving no room for argument and their family doctor sighed again, filling out the birth certificate like a man walking to the gallows._

_Philippa turned back towards her husband, hoping that he was only sleeping and not falling into a blood-loss induced coma, his softly rising and falling chest the only confirmation she had that he was still alive._

_“Mommy?”_

_Talia was hovering in the doorway, her grip on her baby brother tight, and Philippa motioned her forward, wanting to take a closer look at the boy now that he was cleaned and sleeping._

_“Does he look like me?” Talia asked and Philippa frowned at the child’s features, holding her breath and then releasing it in relief._

_“He looks a little different but I can see you here, here, and here,” she answered, looking to Maryanne for confirmation._

_The housekeeper nodded, an almost sentimental look on her blood-spattered face that seemed remarkably misplaced._

_“He takes after your daddy I think. Thankfully,” she said matter of factly and Philippa scoffed, echoing the sentiment._

_“Philippa?” the doctor asked, sounding resigned and when both Hale women turned towards him he gestured towards the baby with a frown._

_“The boy needs a name. Did Andrew pick one out?”_

_“Daddy was convinced he was a girl,” Talia repeated her earlier statement, frowning as she was clearly trying to rack her brain for a boy name her father might have mentioned._

_“Well, we can’t ask him, since he’s sleeping, so I guess you and me will have to choose your brother’s name,” Philippa said calmly, holding up her hand when Talia looked like she wanted to protest._

_“Your father had me choose your name when you were born, I’m sure he won’t mind,” she said, her tone once again leaving no room for argument and Talia sighed, looking back at the baby._

_“What about Derek?” she asked after a moment and Philippa shook her head firmly, inspecting the child’s face carefully once more._

_“That boy does not look like a Derek at all,” she decided and Talia huffed, sounding just a little congested when she muttered, “Fine! But I really like that name!”_

_Philippa looked at the baby again, waiting to feel … something, but instead of the intense hatred she had anticipated there was just … nothing._

_If anything, her feelings could be described as cool indifference and as she watched her daughter fall more and more in love with the baby by the second, Philippa felt the tiniest tinge of regret at knowing that she would never be able to love this child as her own, despite its innocence._

_She knew what it was like to love a child, had felt it in those first moments with Talia, and while she would have never denied her daughter the joy of having a little brother, she fervently hoped that her husband carried enough affection for the both of them._

_The child would not want for anything, she would make sure of that, but the one thing she had to deny him was love, aware that even the attempt to give it to him would break her apart._

_“Peter,” she said softly, repeating the name in her head as she looked at the baby._

_She wasn’t religious and had little patience for the supernatural, but she had listened to the stories as a child and the one that had stuck with her the most had been that of St. Peter, who – according to the Christian religion – had denied the very manifestation of love on Earth himself._

_The name also meant ‘stone’, and even though she usually did not appreciate poetics she couldn’t quite stop the humorless smile spreading over her lips at the fitting irony of it all, the way in which the boy’s name encompassed her feelings towards him perfectly._

_“His name is Peter. Peter Hale.”_

 

================

 

Sheriff John Stilisnki was used to all kinds of surprises, some of them good, some of them bad, and when his only child stumbled into the station in tears just after his lunch break his instincts – for the first time that he could remember – were failing him as to whether this was one of the good or the bad ones.

“Dad!” Stiles croaked, shaking, and Sheriff Stilinski decided to postpone the interrogation until further notice, getting up from behind his desk without comment and taking two long strides towards him.

Stiles clung to him, breathing like he was about to have a panic attack, and the Sheriff held him tightly, fear growing in his gut as he remembered the last time he had seen Stiles this upset, the morning on which he had bounded into his grandfather’s bedroom and found that the old man had passed away in his sleep.

Tara was hovering in the door, looking concerned, and the Sheriff nodded towards her, leading her to close the door to the office without comment.

“Dad, I did something terrible,” Stiles whispered into his shoulder, sounding like a man seconds away from drowning, and the Sheriff pushed him away gently, just enough so that he could firmly grab his son’s shoulders and look into his eyes.

“What did you do?” he asked, trying to be as calm as possible, and Stiles shivered, his face twisting as he tried to form the words.

“I … Dad, I killed my own baby!”

John blinked; then he blinked again, and whatever Stiles saw in his eyes he apparently took for judgment, because he sank down into the chair behind him, burying his face into his hands.

“I killed my baby, Dad, and I …”

“Son!” the Sheriff interrupted him, sinking down on his knees in front of him and gripping Stiles’ knees tightly.

“You don’t _have_ a baby that you could have killed,” he stated, sucking in a harsh breath when Stiles whispered, “Not yet I don’t. But I will, soon, and it’s going to die because of me!”

John’s head reeled back, stunned.

“Alright, back up here! Son, why the hell do you think you killed a baby that’s not even born yet and _why are you going to have a baby in the first place?_ ”

Stiles let out a sound that could have been a laugh if his eyes hadn’t been full of despair.

“Well, Dad, remember that time you took that banana and …”

“Don’t sass me young man! Not the time!” John said firmly and Stiles tore at his hair, shivering.

“I know!It’s not funny, I know that, but I’m freaking out and … Dad, I didn’t know! I didn’t fucking know and because of that I … I …”

He trailed off, letting out a pained whine and the Sheriff tightened his grip on his son’s knees, looking at him intently.

“Stiles! I need you to focus and start from the beginning. Right now!” he ordered, trying to be as patient as possible.

Stiles took a deep breath, shivering.

“I’m the father of Derek Hale’s baby! I found out this morning.”

John took a deep breath, pushing down his impulse to say the first thing on his mind – which might or might not have been “You idiot!” and would have helped nobody, least of all his only child, who was currently falling apart right in front of him – and steadying his voice.

“I’m not surprised.”

For a moment Stiles just stared at him, his mouth wide-open, and the Sheriff shook his head, sighing deeply.

“Stiles! The man looked like he was about to burst into tears when he thought I was the grandfather of Jordan’s daughter and the two of you have been giving off UST like crazy ever since they first dragged that poor man on television. Oh don’t look at me like that, I read, I’m not that old. The point is that this is not a surprise to me. I didn’t think it was actually true, not after you came out of his hospital room looking like your world hadn’t just majorly changed, but I’m guessing he probably had a reason to hide it, however misguided it may seem to you right now.”

“Why are you not freaking out right now? I just told you I’m going to be a _father_!” Stiles exclaimed, and the Sheriff grabbed his shoulders, keeping him still.

“Oh believe me, I _am_ freaking out internally right now! I just learned I’m going to be a _grandpa_ , for crying out loud! But I am also your father, first and foremost, in fact, and I just had my child storm in here in tears thinking he’d killed his own baby, which means my priority right now is being here for you. Can’t really do that if I’m freaking out about a surprise-grandbaby now, can I?”

“Guess not,” Stiles mumbled and the Sheriff smiled, shaking his head slightly.

“There’s going to be a talk, young man, about a lot of things, _believe me_ , but right now I need to figure out why you think your baby is going to die and why that is your fault.”

Stiles rubbed a hand across his eyes, face scrunching up once again.

“I … I went to confront Derek and he … he told me that the baby is probably going to be stillborn.”

“Why?”

John tried to keep his voice steady and Stiles looked at him guiltily, having clearly noticed the pain in his father’s expression.

“It’s too small. Like, _really_ small. Growth-restricted. Dad, I _pushed_ him in that bathroom! They told me it hadn’t hurt the baby but it obviously did, only they didn’t tell me until now because I wasn’t considered the father and didn’t have a right to know! It’s my fault, Dad! I’m responsible for this!”

“You had a fight with Derek?”

The Sheriff’s expression had turned from pain into anger and Stiles blinked in confusion.

“That’s not the point Dad, the point is that …”

“Son! Do you even know what causes growth-restriction in babies?”

At Stiles’ blank look the Sheriff threw his hands up in the air, groaning in exasperation.

“Jesus, kid! You spent half your teenage years on webmd.com and didn’t even stop to think and check before barreling in here like you just committed a crime? There are tons of causes for growth restriction in babies and without being a medical expert here I can say that all that stress Derek has been under for _months_ was probably a much bigger factor in this than one push in a bathroom four months ago!”

He grabbed Stiles’ shoulders again, shaking them.

“So what you’re telling me is that you confronted the father of your baby, which was a very stressful situation for the both of you, who then told you there might be something wrong with the baby, which probably hasn’t lessened _his_ stress-levels at all in the past month, and instead of staying there and be there for him you … hold on a second, did you _tell_ him you think you killed the baby?”

Stiles shook his head, looking pained.

“I panicked! When he told me I … I just couldn’t face … he _loves_ that baby, Dad! How could I have stayed, knowing that what I did to him was worse than I ever …”

“So instead of acting like the father you are going to be and staying there to support him and carry the responsibility with him you just ran out on an eight-months pregnant man whose unborn baby is potentially facing serious health complications and he has no clue why you ran away from him?”

Stiles deflated, letting out a pained noise.

“Holy shit!” he whispered and the Sheriff nodded.

“Holy shit is right! Listen, son, I understand that that was a lot to take in all at once, I do, and I have no idea how I would have reacted in that situation. But if Melissa told you that the push didn’t harm the baby then that means it didn’t harm the baby. She wouldn’t have lied to you, not when it comes to something like this, so right now your job is to get your ass back to the city and be there for the man carrying your baby!”

He sighed, looking at his son with a disappointed expression.

“I didn’t raise you to be a coward and you cannot start being one now, not when you are about to become a father! I love you and I will support you in this, but you have to do the right thing, and the right thing is being there for Derek. No matter what happened between the two of you that baby is your first priority now and if that means taking care of Derek then that’s what you’re going to do!”

“What if he doesn’t want me to? What if I messed up one time too many?” Stiles whispered and the Sheriff sighed, exasperated.

“That boy wants you _plenty_. I think that’s a huge part of the problem.”

“I hope you’re right, Dad,” Stiles said softly, and both men startled when the following silence was interrupted by Stiles’ cell phone, sounding unnaturally loud in the quiet office.

“That’s Cora’s ringtone!” Stiles exclaimed, an edge of panic in his voice as he pulled the phone out of his pocket.

“Cora? What’s … _what_?”

John Stilinski prided himself on knowing his son very well, better than he seemed to know himself at times, and when Stiles lowered his phone looking like his entire world had just shattered into a million pieces John didn’t hesitate, grabbing his keys with one hand and his shell-shocked son’s arm with the other.

“I’m going to drive you down there. You’re not driving in this state,” he said firmly, nodding towards Tara as he led Stiles out of the office and steered him towards the cruiser, not needing his son’s verbal confirmation that something had happened, the look on his face answer enough.

“Dad? Derek’s in labor,” Stiles whispered as they pulled out of the station parking lot, and John rested one hand on his son’s leg, which was shaking violently.

“I thought so. I’ll get you there as quickly as possible. Melissa’s hospital?” he asked, concentrating on the road even though his grip tightened on Stiles’ leg.

“Yeah,” Stiles whispered, tone hollow, and when he spoke next John felt a long-forgotten pain inside his chest, his son’s voice as broken as it had been during the most horrible time in both of their lives.

“Daddy? What is the survival-rate for a growth-restricted baby born at 32 weeks?”

Stiles hadn’t called him ‘daddy’ in a long time and it made the ache inside John’s chest worse as he took a deep breath.

“Let’s hope we won’t have to find out today.”

Stiles’ leg didn’t stop shaking all the way to the hospital and John’s hand never wavered.

 

===============

_1980_

_“Don’t go Tally, don’t go!”_

_Talia, 18 years old, freshly graduated from high school and just about to move to the other side of the country to attend Berkeley University, carefully placed the box she had been carrying towards the car on the ground and turned around, getting down on her knees to be on eye-level with the four year old boy who had run after her._

_“I’m not gone forever Petey, I’ll be back for Christmas and next summer we’re going to play with your Legos and go to the pool every single day, I promise!”_

_“No go!” her little brother repeated, voice stubborn and lips quivering and his resolve persisted for all of another second before he started sobbing, big fat tears running down his still chubby baby-cheeks._

_Talia opened her arms and Peter flew towards her, wrapping his short arms around her neck for dear life and pressing his tear-stained face into her cheek, his tiny body shaking with his first real heartbreak._

_“I’ll be back home so quickly you will never notice I was gone!” Talia repeated, her voice gentle as she rubbed her nose against Peter’s soft cheek but her words were of no consolation to Peter, who had now progressed into full-on wailing territory._

_“Don’t go! Don’t want you to!”_

_Talia just hugged him tighter, rocking him back and forth like she had when he had been a baby and even though Peter’s cries slowly quieted down they sounded indignant now; as if he was very much opposed to being mollified like he was a baby but powerless to stop the soothing effect his sister’s embrace had on him._

_“I’ll write to you every week, I promise!” Talia smiled at him when the sobs had turned to sniffles and Peter unstuck his head from her shoulder, giving her his most unimpressed look._

_“Tally, I can’t read!”_

_Talia laughed, ruffling his hair fondly._

_“You can ask Mommy, Daddy, or Maryanne to read them to you! I‘m sure they will if you ask nicely and mind your manners!”_

_“Mommy never reads to me! Ever! And Daddy’s really sad you’re leaving, too!”_

_He looked on the ground, grumbling something under his breath and Talia gently placed a finger under his chin and pushed it towards her face, raising an eyebrow._

_“What was that Petey?” she asked, and Peter pulled a face._

_“Don’t like Maryanne! Always have to … sit still!”_

_Talia chuckled, standing up with her brother placed on one hip and tucking her box under her arm on the other side as she walked toward the car._

_When the box was safely deposited she sat on the edge of the open trunk, looking into her upset brother’s face earnestly._

_“I know it seems like it’s going to be a long time, but I promise you it’s really not all that long! I’ll be back home before you know it! And I will miss you every day! You know who you are, right?”_

_“Your favorite boy?” Peter asked, a tiny smile breaking through the storm clouds on his face and Talia nodded empathically, leaning forward to smack a big kiss on his forehead._

_“Yes! You are my favorite little boy! And I would never leave you alone for long, I would be too sad if I didn’t see my favorite boy anymore!”_

_Peter nodded, looking almost too serious for his four years._

_“You won’t forget me?” he asked and Talia shook her head firmly, her eyes soft._

_“Never in a million years!”_

_“And I’ll always be your favorite boy?”_

_“Always!”_

_“Okay,” he whispered, before clinging to her neck once more and Talia hugged him closer, once again rocking him back and forth in soothing motions._

_“Have you got everything Talia?”_

_Philippa and Andrew Hale had joined the children at the car without either of them noticing and Talia grinned, motioning towards the overstuffed trunk._

_“I think if I take more the car will break down before I pass the state line. I should really get going though, want to beat rush-hour and I still need to pick up Elena,” she said, chuckling when her mother muttered, “How that girl **and** her things are supposed to fit into this car only the heavens may know.”_

_“Hey Petey? You have to let me go now,” Talia whispered into her baby-brother’s ear and Peter’s formerly loose grip on her neck tightened once more._

_When he spoke next he sounded resigned._

_“Can’t I come with you? In a box?” he whispered and Talia sighed, kissing his forehead again._

_“I’m sorry Petey, this is something I have to do alone. But I’ll be back before you know it, I promise! Hey Daddy, want to take the little octopus here?”_

_Andrew Hale slowly held out his arms and Peter sulked once he was settled in his father’s embrace, his tiny body stock-still and both of them looking like they were extremely uncomfortable with the other._

_Talia sighed, giving her mother a meaningful look._

_“I’ll write to you guys every week and someone has to read the special messages to Petey, alright? I’ll find out if you don’t!”_

_She winked at her brother conspiratorially and Peter tried to wink back, a feat not easily accomplished with more tears spilling from his eyes._

_“Bye Mom! Bye Daddy! I’ll call when we make the first stop!”_

_“There goes my child,” Philippa murmured as the car pulled out of the driveway, a sad smile on her face that turned into a blank expression when she looked at her husband and the awkward way in which he was holding the four-year-old boy._

_“Oh for heaven’s sake, put him down, he’s getting too heavy and you’ll just hurt your back again!”_

_Andrew Hale didn’t utter a word as a he sat Peter down, patting him on the head once before turning around and walking back to the house._

_“Mommy?”_

_Philippa sighed, looking down at the little boy who was facing her with a lost expression._

_“Is Daddy going to be sad again? As long as last time?”_

_“Your father hasn’t stopped being sad since the day you were born Peter,” Philippa replied, a twinge of something flitting over her face before she forced herself to smile._

_“He’s going to be fine Peter. We are all going to miss your sister, but she will be back for Christmas. You like Christmas, don’t you?”_

_“Yes Mommy,” Peter said obediently, looking like he was deliberating a terribly difficult choice before he shyly held up his arms, a fresh bout of tears brimming in his eyes._

_“Look at your pants Peter, they are all dusty and muddy. You were playing in the garden again, weren’t you? I don’t want you to stain my costume because I have to go to an event in twenty minutes. I will call for Maryanne to give you a bath,” Philippa said coolly, taking a step away from Peter._

_Peter started sniffling again and once more Philippa’s face twitched._

_“Peter … I’m … come on, we don’t have all day and your bedtime is coming up, so hurry up and get inside!”_

_“Yes Mommy,” Peter said quietly, turning to follow her towards the house, his feet dragging on the dusty ground._

_“Is Daddy going to read me a bedtime story?” Peter asked Maryanne when the housekeeper tucked him under the covers, looking impossibly small in the large queen sized that had once stood in the guest room._

_Maryanne sighed, her face judgmental._

_“Your Daddy is **sad** again Peter, he probably won’t be able to read you a bedtime story for a while.”_

_Peter sighed, having expected nothing else._

_“Will you read to me?” he asked next, having long learned to not even ask for his mother anymore and Maryanne sighed, though she obediently pulled out the book Talia had read the night before._

_“Can you do the voices like Tally?” Peter asked, hopeful, and Maryanne sighed louder._

_“I can do the voices like Maryanne, and that’s the best I can do Peter,” she decided and as he stared at the dark ceiling, listening to the continuation of a story that had sounded exciting and wonderful the night before but had now turned as dull and uninteresting as the monotone of Maryanne’s voice, Peter knew that no one would ever be able to read to him like his big sister could._

_He spent the next two weeks feeling very lonely, missing his sister with all of his being, but then summer was over and he was suddenly enrolled in kindergarten, a year earlier than all the other children, but because of his daddy’s **sadness** , and his mother’s busy work-life the teachers had made an exception for the younger Hale child._

_Not that Peter was complaining, after all, he got to play with other children and learn how to read, which meant that he could read Tally’s letters and imagine them in her own voice, not the boring voice of Maryanne._

_The housekeeper helped him with the first four, but by the time Thanksgiving had come and gone Peter was able to read them himself, having learned rather quickly to read the – admittedly helpful – big bold letters in which his beloved sister wrote her special messages to him._

_“Dear Petey. 4 more weeks until I see you! I’m so excited! When I come home I’m going to bring a friend! He’s a very special boy! You will love him, too! Kisses, Tally”_

_Even though he was only four years and four months old Peter Hale was not a stupid little boy, and the feeling of dread that coiled inside his stomach felt almost as bad as the way his mother looked at him sometimes when his father started crying because of the **sadness** , as if it had all been Peter’s fault. _

_Talia had never called anyone except him a ‘very special boy’ and even though he was much too little to understand anything about romantic love he didn’t need his sister to tell him the most heartbreaking truth he had ever realized in his short life on earth, the way in which she was beaming at the tall, broad-shouldered guy with the black stubble and dark eyes evidence enough to confirm what he had been fearing ever since he had deciphered the letter._

_In between, “I’m sorry this is on such short notice Mr. and Mrs. Hale, but my parents went on a cruise to Europe for their anniversary. I promise they aren’t that evil, but it was the only time that was affordable, and well, when Talia insisted I join you for the holidays they didn’t even feel all that bad!”, his mother’s delighted, “Oh that is no problem Sebastian, no problem at all, what did you say you’re majoring in again?”, his sister’s “ **Mom**! We’re first year college students, we’re not declaring our majors yet!”, and the Sebastian-Boy’s “Don’t worry Tally, I don’t mind! I’m going to major in psychology Ma’m, couldn’t think of a better field for me, personally!” Peter realized three things with child-like clarity._

_First, he had the strange suspicion that his mother probably loved this Sebastian-Boy more than him._

_Second, he **hated** the Sebastian-Boy with a passion._

_Third, he was no longer Talia’s favorite boy in the world._

_That much was painfully clear._

_And it hurt terribly._

===================

 

Everything hurt, the pain wrapping around his entire torso like a fiery blanket and neutralizing almost any rational thought.

Derek had tried to explain the sensation away as Braxton Hicks contractions at first, aware that sometimes they took a bit longer, but he had never felt them that strongly in his back before, not to mention that they had never quite been so … regular.

Stiles had been gone roughly an hour when Derek uncurled himself from the fetal position he had assumed on his bed, hoping that the pain would just finally go away, and when he stood up on shaky legs his knees almost buckled under him as he noticed the red splotches on the sheets, right where he had been lying just seconds ago.

The sweats he was wearing were black and he couldn’t see anything, but when he touched his finger to the seam he was not surprised to find it coming back red as well.

He and the baby were in serious trouble and he needed help.

His phone was lying on the living room table and he walked into the living room like a 100 year old man, pausing every two or three steps and almost doubling over on the last as more pain – contraction, this was a real contraction – racked through him.

His first instinct was to call Cora, but his sister was about an hour away with public transportation and if this was what he was afraid of, if this was actual labor, then he needed help quickly, all too painfully aware that being born eight weeks too early would likely not end well for his still too small baby.

“911, what is your emergency?”

The operator’s voice sounded calm and collected and Derek tried to steady himself, breath coming out in short gasps as he sank onto the floor, resting his back against the couch.

“I need help! I think I’m in labor and it’s … it’s too early!”

“How far along are you Sir,” the voice asked, still calm, and Derek sucked in a sharp breath.

“32 weeks, but my baby has IUGR! I can’t have my baby today Sir, I can’t!”

“What is your location Mr. …”

“Hale, Derek Hale!”

He rattled off his address, having to repeat his apartment number twice when he mixed up the numerals due to his agitation and when he was done the operator cleared his throat.

“Alright, the ambulance will be there shortly. Is there anyone with you Mr. Hale?”

“No, I’m alone, my sister is across town, I ... I’m alone!”

“Then I’ll just stay on the line with you Mr. Hale, I’ve given birth to three babies myself, I know this can be terrifying and I want you to know that you need to try and relax. How far apart are your contractions?”

“I … 15 minutes, I think … I can’t have my baby right now!”

“Breathe Mr. Hale, in and out, panicking is not going to help you or your baby. Help is on the way and you’ll be taken to General Mercy, which is Melissa McCall’s hospital. She delivered all three of my children; if anyone can help you she is the one. Please try to stay calm.”

“I deserve this,” Derek whispered, unable to stop himself from crying out when his skin turned into rock underneath his hands and the operator cleared his throat once more.

“No one deserves this sort of thing Mr. Hale, least of all your innocent child! I know there are a lot of people in the community who aren’t big fans of you right now, but that doesn’t mean anyone wants harm to come to you or your child, alright? Don’t even think for a second you deserve this, that’s not a road you want to go down in case something _does_ happen!”

Derek’s breathing quickened, the pain overriding his capacity for speech and the operator’s voice sounding muffled in his ears.

“Stay with me Mr. Hale! Help is on the way and Doctor McCall will do everything she can! Deep breaths, you hear me? Deep breaths!”

By the time the paramedics rushed into the loft the operator was still telling him to breathe, voice gentler and more comforting than Derek thought he deserved.

After all, his baby was going to die and it was his own damned fault.

 

====================

_1989_

_“Well, congratulations young man! You are not a carrier!”_

_Peter exhaled loudly, looking towards his mother and noting the deep relief in her features, the emotion transforming her entire face from the almost harried look she had been sporting in the two weeks leading up to his testing date to something that, to him, was fierce and beautiful._

_When their eyes met Peter’s breath caught in his throat._

_He couldn’t quite remember his mother ever looking at him with so much triumph, yes, pride even, and he almost felt like a sponge as he tried to soak up as much of it as he could, terrified of the moment the look would be replaced with the coldness he was used to._

_Philippa Hale had never raised her hand against him, but her indifference to him had struck him almost as much as if she had done it physically. When it had become clear that Talia was not going to come back, that she was going to actually marry the bearded underwear model she had stumbled into on the very first day of Freshman orientation – Peter still didn’t like him very much – he had devoted all of his energy into making his mother love him, just like his sister loved him._

_Or at least a tiny fraction, he wasn’t greedy at this point, but with a father who looked at him with perpetual sadness and constantly gave him the feeling as if he had somehow caused all of his problems, a housekeeper who was getting older now and had very little patience for his often snarky attitude, and a mother who went out of her way to spend as little time with him as possible, Peter was, for a lack of a better term, touch and affection-starved._

_He had everything he needed, got most of the things he asked for, but the one thing his mother continued to deny him was warmth, and while he could deal with not receiving that same warmth from his father, his mother’s lack of interest in him hurt terribly, and not just because he had seen all of his friends’ affectionate interactions with their mothers._

_The older he had gotten and the more of an understanding he had garnered about how power worked, the less he had been able to respect his father, who, to him, was little more than a broken shell of a man, weak and unable to deal with life, but his **mother** … his mother was power-incarnate._

_She had been elected mayor when Peter had been five and run the county ever since, there had even been talk of moving to the state legislature at one point, though that idea had been scrapped quickly, for reasons that Peter didn’t know._

_Everyone who met them treated her with the utmost respect, people stepped out of her way to clear her path, and she was called on constantly for advice, a true leader of the community._

_Peter loved her fiercely, proud of all of her accomplishments as if they were his own, and that she obviously considered him a great disappointment stung, when he wanted nothing more than for her to consider him an accomplishment, too._

_He wanted to be just like her, powerful, respected, adored even, and it was because of this desire that he had barely slept in the two weeks leading up to his testing, terrified out of his mind that he would test positive as a carrier and his life would be ruined._

_While his father had remained mostly silent on the subject – not surprising, really, after all he was once again afflicted with the **sadness** , which, now that he was 13 years old and had access to the school library, Peter knew wasn’t actually called ‘the sadness’ but depression – but his mother had probably talked to him more in the past two weeks than she had in the past two years, forcing him to read literature on carriers and why they were a threat to society and Peter, who was intelligent enough to read between the lines, had quickly realized that as a carrier all hope of ever gaining his mother’s love and respect would be lost forever._

_Now, however, the tables had turned and as his mother kept shooting him relieved looks on their way to the car and all throughout the drive to the house Peter realized that she had not expected this outcome, partly wondering why she had been so convinced he would test as a carrier and desperately hoping that this fear had been the reason for her indifference towards him, as if she had been bracing herself for the moment when she could no longer love her disappointment of a carrier-son._

_After reading all of the literature on the subject Peter could definitely understand her hesitation._

_“Help me carry the groceries in Peter,” his mother commanded when they got out of the car, having made a stop at the store to pick up a few things for his sister, who was there for a visit with her family, and Peter obliged her immediately, almost dropping the full bag when a two and a half year old tornado descended upon them, almost barreling him over as it advanced towards his mother._

_Philippa Hale picked Laura up easily, twirling in a circle with her and beaming at the toddler, whose dark blonde pigtails were flying everywhere._

_Peter still maintained that she was the milkman’s daughter, having found no possible other solution for the fact that his dark-haired sister and her raven-haired surfer-dude husband had produced such a fair-looking child, even if Talia insisted that she herself had been fairly light in early childhood, too, and Laura’s hair would get darker with time._

_“How is Grandma’s favorite little girl today?” his mother asked, her eyes shining with love as she patted Laura’s head and Peter swallowed down the familiar hurt, reminding himself that he had to be patient, that everything would be better, now that he was no longer considered a threat for bringing shame upon the family._

_Philippa Hale had never quite looked at him the way she was now looking at Laura and even though it made Peter feel small and pathetic to feel so intensely jealous of a little girl who couldn’t even pronounce her own name yet – his sister and her husband celebrated each exclamation of “Auwa wants!” like it was the newest world wonder and Peter felt they were definitely setting their standards too low – he couldn’t quite help it._

_“How did it go Petey?” Talia’s voice called out from the patio and Peter left his mother and niece in the entrance of the house, glad to escape the little girl’s grammatically questionable jibber-jabber about either elephants or puppy-dogs as he walked into the living room and from there into the sunroom, which, during the summer, opened up into a shaded patio._

_Talia was gently swinging back and forth in a rocking chair, the new baby cradled in her arms as she nursed him and Peter made a show of rolling his eyes as he sat down cross-legged in front of her, shaking his head at the baby’s greedy suckling sounds._

_“How is it possible that this child is always eating, I think you’ve given birth to the cookie-monster!” he teased her and Talia snorted, cooing to the baby when he let out a sound of protest over his meal being jostled._

_“There’s really not much else to do except eating and sleeping when your vision still doesn’t go beyond a couple of inches and you haven’t quite mastered the art of supporting your own head yet,” she said gently, tracing her finger across the baby’s chubby cheek lovingly._

_“But you didn’t answer my question. How did it go Petey?”_

_“Looks like you’re going to be the only one popping out the babies in this family … not a carrier!” Peter said flippantly, grinning when Talia gave him an amused look._

_“I wish I could have just popped him out! They say the second baby is easier, but this particular second baby didn’t get the memo,” she said wistfully and Peter winced in sympathy as he remembered the long hours spent in an uncomfortable hospital chair, trying to keep an increasingly bored Laura occupied while his brother-in-law and his grandparents had been with Talia in the delivery room._

_By the time the baby had finally made his grand entrance Laura had crashed out from a sugar-high and Peter had been just about ready to sell her to the highest bidder, completely and totally grossed out by the baby-drool dripping onto his shirt that Laura had been clutching onto with a death grip._

_His niece had magically reawakened the moment he had carried her into the hospital room, nearly jumping out of his arms to get to her mother and Talia had been crying and laughing at the same time – Peter maintained it had been a bit too much of the good drugs – cuddling her daughter with one arm and holding her newborn son with the other._

_The baby – “Derek, he looks like a Derek, doesn’t he Petey?” – had glared up at him – “Oh don’t be ridiculous Peter, babies don’t glare!” – and Peter had stared back, mostly unimpressed by the ugly, red, wrinkly, and cone-shaped head peaking out of a white cloth._

_What had stood out the most to him had been his mother, however, the way she had smiled at the bundle in her arms and whispered, “My perfect little boy!”_

_Peter had closed his eyes, imagining how it would have felt for her to say those words to him._

_Not to some stupid baby who, admittedly, didn’t look quite as hideous anymore, now that his head was finally back in shape._

_“Are you relieved?” Talia asked, bringing him back to the present and Peter shrugged, not sure how to answer her._

_Talia was, according to their mother, too liberal for her own good sometimes, and while Peter hadn’t quite fully grasped what that meant yet – other than, apparently, going to a bunch of different parades every year before she had had kids – he did understand that when it came to the subject of carriers his big sister, who, as a woman, would never face anyone questioning the morality of her childbearing capabilities, was perhaps a bit too removed from the issue to form a comprehensive opinion._

_“I am. I mean, don’t get me wrong Tally, I love you, but I’d rather not have to go through the agony of pushing something the size of Derek’s head out of any part of my body.”_

_Talia chuckled as she propped the baby against her shoulder and burped him, pressing a soft kiss to his head._

_“Well, he’s definitely our last one, so you might be on to something there,” Talia mused, though her eyes were sparkling in a way that told Peter that his brother-in-law would probably get to inflict his genes on yet another innocent child, who would then grow up and insist that everyone talked about feelings … much like what he imagined Sebastian’s job to be like._

_“I’ll hold you to that Tally,” he grinned and Talia laughed loudly._

_“You just might have to. In all honesty though Petey, I understand that you are relieved, but being a carrier wouldn’t have been the end of the world, you know?”_

_“Maybe not yours,” Peter thought grimly, feeling relieved when Derek let out a little whimper that got his sister’s attention._

_He loved her deeply, but he didn’t want to argue with her about things that she obviously didn’t understand, even if she was older._

_“What is it Derek? Still hungry? Don’t be upset my handsome little boy! Hey, Petey, can you hold my favorite boy in the world for a second, I’m starving and I need to get some food in me before I can feed him again!”_

_Before Peter could protest his arms were already full of mewling baby and he sighed, looking down at his nephew with a raised eyebrow._

_Derek, in Peter’s opinion, was just milking it for the attention, his whimpers quieting down immediately once his mother had left the sunroom and Peter chuckled, reluctantly impressed._

_“You’re going to be the biggest momma’s boy in the history of momma’s boys, aren’t you?”_

_Derek didn’t seem to find anything wrong with that, his eyes falling shut as he slipped into a well-deserved milk-coma and Peter studied his features, finding it once again regrettable that Sebastian’s genes were so dominant in the boy._

_Laura looked like a true Hale, no question about it, but Derek definitely took after his father, the only feature he had gotten from Talia his eyes, which would undoubtedly turn into the same unidentifiable color that his sister and grandfather had._

_“You should enjoy it while you can, you know? I don’t think you’ll be the last baby, and if your mommy has another little boy, I’m afraid you’ll quickly find that the title ‘favorite boy’ no longer applies to you. Believe me, I would know.”_

_Derek didn’t wake up, snuffling a little in his sleep instead, and as he watched his nephew sleep Peter, who did love his niece and nephew despite the fact that their existence mostly annoyed him these days, genuinely hoped he would never have to experience that pain._

 

====================

 

“Where is he? What happened? Is the baby dead? Is Derek ok? Talk to me!”

Cora looked pale and shaken as Stiles rushed towards her in the hospital corridor, his father and Scott, who had gotten an urgent call from Melissa and met up with Stiles and his father in the hospital parking lot, hot on his heels.

“He’s sleeping! He’s going to be fine! Melissa managed to stop the labor! The baby is going to be just fine!” Cora rushed out, taking a deep breath before she burst into tears.

Stiles stumbled backwards, feeling like he would faint on the spot and Scott steadied him, while his father wrapped up Cora in his arms, shushing her and rubbing her back as if she was a little baby herself.

 “Melissa? How are Derek and … my baby?” Stiles asked when Melissa joined them, the stress-lines more prominent than ever on her face.

“ _Your_ baby?” Melissa and Scott asked simultaneously, and Melissa recovered first, her expression morphing into sympathy.

“The baby is fine for the moment, the drugs stopped the labor just in time and the baby’s vitals are strong for now. Derek’s sleeping, probably will for a while, his body underwent a lot of stress today, but it looks like the baby is staying put for now.”

“But?” John asked, looking at her questioningly over Cora’s shoulder and Melissa sighed.

“We’re going to keep him here for a couple of days at least, to see what happens once we take him off the medication, but I’m afraid there are going to be some changes once we discharge him. The birth canal has fully formed and that wasn’t supposed to happen until at least six weeks from now, which means that he will remain at constant risk for premature labor from here on out. He’ll have to go on strict bed-rest and will require someone to be with him for the duration, it’s the only choice we have to prevent this from happening again.”

“Can’t you just … sew it shut or something?” Cora asked, tears still rolling down her face and Melissa sighed, shaking her head.

“Cerclage-procedures are known to have caused some serious side-effects in carriers and are almost never effective with them. I don’t want to risk anything when it comes to this baby, especially since …”

“What about the baby’s size? Is it still too small?” Stiles asked, voice hitched, and Melissa blinked in surprise, though she quickly recovered.

“I’m glad you know Honey, it wasn’t healthy of him to keep that to himself. The baby is hovering around the 10 percentile right now, which is progress considering we started out at the 5 percentile, but it’s still not out of the woods yet and we need to make sure Derek stays pregnant for as long as we possibly can. Each additional day the baby spends inside is going to help,” she said, putting a calming hand on Cora’s shoulder when Derek’s sister let out a whimper.

“There’s something wrong with the baby? But he said … he said … _stupid idiot brother_!” she exclaimed, fresh tears springing into her eyes and Melissa stroked across her hair soothingly, sighing in agreement.

“Can I see him?” Stiles asked, and Melissa nodded, pointing towards a door to the far right.

“Erica and Boyd are staying with him right now, Cora called them as soon as we notified her. I’m sure they won’t mind the coffee break,” she said, patting his shoulder encouragingly as she steered him towards the room, away from Cora, who had once again buried her face against the Sheriff’s chest, and Scott, who looked shell-shocked.

“He’s going to be sleeping for quite a while, probably, and you shouldn’t try to wake him. Just stay with him for a bit, talk to the baby, that can’t hurt,” Melissa instructed him, and Stiles had never loved her more, appreciating her for not letting her curiosity getting into the way of her professionalism, aware that once things had quieted down he’d definitely have to face the McCall inquisition about why he was the father of Derek’s child.

Erica’s eyes were red-rimmed when he stepped inside the room and Boyd clapped his shoulder firmly, looking more worried than Stiles had ever seen him.

“Hey Daddy,” Erica whispered, her eyes swimming with tears, and Stiles closed his eyes briefly, telling himself that getting upset now was simply not going to help.

“You knew?” he asked, voice carefully controlled, and Erica nodded, clutching Boyd’s hand.

“I’m sorry Stiles! When he told me I did the math and … I’m so sorry! You have to believe me, I wanted to tell you but he … I love you both and …”

“He needed people in his corner,” Stiles finished for her, sinking into the chair Erica had just vacated.

“I’m sorry Stiles,” Erica repeated again, voice barely above a whisper now, and Stiles sighed.

“I’m literally too emotionally exhausted to feel anything right now. Can we talk about this later? I need to be there for both of them right now,” he said, hesitating only a second before he rested a hand on Derek’s belly, covered by the thin sheet.

“ _Stiles_ ,” Boyd said meaningfully and Stiles turned towards them, taking in the way Erica was shaking and the way Boyd looked torn between concern and exasperation and Stiles suddenly got where he was coming from.

“Hey … Cat-Woman … I love you, ok? We’re going to have to talk about this, at length, probably, but you’re going to be a kick-ass auntie for my baby, alright?”

“I love you, too, Batman,” Erica whispered, relief evident in her voice and Boyd nodded at him gratefully, looking relieved as well.

When they were gone Stiles let out a shuddering breath, feeling the comforting movements under Derek’s skin and soaking up the knowledge that his baby was still alive, despite this new setback.

“Hey Honey-Bunny, you really scared me today. Don’t do that again, I love you too much to lose you,” Stiles whispered, resting his forehead against Derek’s abdomen and taking deep, even breaths.

“I love you so much. _Both_ of you. It doesn’t make sense and I probably shouldn’t, but I just love the two of you so damn much!”

For a while he just stayed there like this, feeling the baby move and listening to the steady sound of Derek’s heartbeat monitor, and when he felt like he could speak again he straightened up, though his hand never left Derek’s stomach.

“Don’t tell your other daddy I told you this. I’m terrified I’m going to rush into something here and I need to think things through, especially since no one has really thought things through ever since this all first started. I want to be the best parent for you that I could possibly be, and I can’t do that if your daddy and I are going to spend our days making each other miserable because we didn’t think things through. We’ll have lots of time to think about everything though, your other daddy is going to have to lay low for a while to keep you inside a bit longer, so we should have plenty of time to talk. I promise you Honey-Bunny, Daddy is not going to leave you ever again. I love you! I just love you so much!”

“Grandpa loves you, too, and he’s going to kick Daddy’s ass if he pulls another stunt like the one he did today!”

Stiles looked up tiredly, trying to smile at his dad and failing miserably when his father rested both hands on his shoulders, looking at Derek like he had never seen him before.

“That’s really my grandbaby in there, huh?” he asked, voice full of warmth and wonderment, and Stiles nodded, chuckling weakly.

“It really is,” he confirmed and the Sheriff smiled sadly.

“I’m not going to tell you that you did good, son, it’ll be a while until I can say that, I think, but from the grandfatherly point of view, the one where I’m actually getting a grandbaby out of this entire mess, I – as well as on behalf of your mom – will have to say it nevertheless. You did good.”

“I hope I will,” Stiles replied softly, his free hand reaching for Derek’s and grasping it, stroking across his knuckles softly.

“I truly hope I will.”

John stayed with him for a while, both Stilinski men watching over the sleeping carrier, and when it was time to leave Scott took the Sheriff’s place, his eyes full of questions but his mouth remaining shut as he gripped Stiles’ shoulder tightly, offering comfort as best as he could.

Stiles hadn’t slept in almost 36 hours when Derek finally opened his eyes, blinking against the sunlight in confusion.

“Hey,” Stiles whispered, squeezing his hand gently and Derek opened his mouth to answer, producing only a hoarse sound that made Stiles wince in sympathy.

“Don’t try to talk just yet, you’ve been through quite a bit of trauma,” he told him, grabbing a glass of water from the nightstand and holding it to Derek’s lips, supporting the back of his head with his free hand.

Derek drank slowly, a little bit of water dribbling down his beard and Stiles brushed his finger across the man’s stubbled chin, desperately hoping Derek wouldn’t throw him out.

“The … the baby?” Derek croaked and Stiles smiled, grabbing his hand and resting it over the spot where the child had moved last, eyes moistening when Derek let out a soft sound of relief.

“It was a close call but you and Honey-Bunny are alright. Melissa stopped the labor and you will be able to go home in a couple of days, provided the contractions don’t return. You’ll have to go on bed rest because the birth canal is open now, but Melissa is confident that we can keep Honey-Bunny inside a bit longer.”

“We?” Derek asked, closing his eyes and opening them again slowly, as if staying awake was too strenuous right now.

Stiles held his gaze steadily, nodding.

“Yeah. Your sister and I talked and we agreed it would make sense if … with your permission of course … I’d move in with you guys for a bit. Or, you know, come over and spend the days with you. Yeah, that, moving in would probably be too much, but I want to be there for you and the baby and from where I’m standing that’s the best way to do it. If you want me to, that is.”

“Coming over is good,” Derek said, swallowing heavily, and Stiles held the glass of water to his lips again, fingers gently stroking the nape of Derek’s neck.

“I’ll work out a schedule with Cora and once we’ve got that set up I’ll go and figure out some entertainment options for you so you don’t get bored to death. Well, and I guess I’ll have to strong-arm Deaton into letting me work from home, but that shouldn’t be a problem, I’m quite sure he would have fired me already if he didn’t secretly love me. Not that I’d know, the man doesn’t have the capability to show emotions, but I saw an eye-twinkle of approval the other day and I’m sure I didn’t imagine it.”

“Stiles, you don’t have to …”

“I do! That’s what Daddies do, putting their family as the first priority. Well, I guess that’s not what all Daddies do, not anymore, but that’s how I was raised and that’s the kind of father I want to be. Unless you really don’t want me to be there? Which I’d understand, given the way I ran out on you just before you went into labor, for which I am so sorry, you have no idea how much, but …”

“I do,” Derek said softly, though his expression was conflicted.

“It’ll be good for us, too. Give us time to talk, you know? Really get to know each other?” Stiles tried, smiling slightly when Derek nodded, the tension in his face slowly disappearing.

“Did you hear that Honey-Bunny? There might just be hope for your stupid daddies, yet, that’s the first time we made a smart parenting decision, go us!”

Derek smiled, lightly rubbing his abdomen.

“Not daddies,” he corrected, and Stiles looked up, cocking his head.

“No?”

“Daddy and Papa … if you don’t mind. I called my father Papa and it just … it feels right, you know?”

“I get to be Daddy?”

Stiles could have sworn there were no tears left in his body but Derek had clearly proven him wrong, his throat constricting as he looked at Derek, then at his belly, hand hovering above the curve.

“You get to be Daddy,” Derek confirmed, gently pressing Stiles’ hand down.

Stiles looked at their joined hands, feeling, for the first time in a long time, that things might work out after all.

“I’m the luckiest Daddy in the world,” he whispered, bending over and, after making eye contact with Derek once more, pressing a soft kiss to the other man’s stomach, skin separated by shirt and sheet but the gesture still meaningful.

Stiles rested his forehead against Derek’s stomach again, feeling incredibly tired now that the decision had been made.

He only startled briefly when Derek’s fingers carded through his hair, coming to rest on his nape.

They stayed like this for a while, neither of them speaking, and when Melissa stuck her head inside to check up on them both expecting fathers were deeply asleep.

 

===================

_2002_

_“Absolutely not!”_

_“But if you’d just …”_

_“I said no and that’s final!”_

_“Well, hold on a second, you can’t just overrule all of us!”_

_“When it comes to this particular issue I can, and I will! Do you have no shame? No way, I will not allow my company to join the ranks of the horribly carrier-phobic establishments that are already pushing carrier-rights back by decades because they keep donating to right-wing Congressmen! No!”_

_Peter slammed his fist on the table, glaring at his older sister heatedly and Talia glared back without blinking an eye, her face set in grim determination._

_“You do realize we can easily out-vote you right now, right?”_

_Kate glared at Talia as well, long fingers fiddling with her necklace, as she tended to do when she was agitated, and Talia raised an eyebrow, looking towards Chris._

_“Can you now?” she asked icily and Chris held up his hands with a sigh, shaking his head._

_“I honestly couldn’t care less about this, so if Talia is so staunchly opposed how about we just …”_

_“No! When my sister brought me in as your junior partner I asked if that meant I had the same executive rights and you promised I wouldn’t be treated differently. This is me exercising these rights! I want to amend our carrier-employee-policy, and I want to do it right now!”_

_“You don’t want to amend it, you want to make a mockery out of it! Firing carriers as soon as they are expecting? There are laws against this, we couldn’t even …”_

_“Those laws only apply to women! I checked! I’ve never wanted carriers working here to begin with, only we can’t do that because that is, in fact, illegal, so I’ll have to settle for the next best thing!”_

_“He’s right, they are disruptive to the work-place and I won’t stand for it!”_

_Talia looked at Kate coolly; disdain dripping from her words._

_“Is that so? You won’t stand for it? Well, dearest Kate, what do you stand for, then? Partying? Drinking? Having sex with men who look like they are barely legal?”_

_“How dare you! Chris! She can’t talk to me that way!”_

_“I’ve watched you at company functions Kate! It’s happened multiple times now, the last time we almost got sued because one of our authors didn’t quite appreciate you making a move on his 17 year old son!”_

_“He showed me his ID and I backed off! Jeez, lighten up!”_

_“I will not lighten up when it comes to statu …”_

_“Talia, please!”_

_Chris held up his hand, looking pained, and Talia took a deep breath, glare still fixed on Kate._

_“I can’t fire you because the same rules that apply to Peter being a member of this board apply to you. At least not without a really good reason. But believe me, I am keeping an eye on you, even if your brother won’t! As for my own brother … we are going to have a private conversation. Right now!”_

_“Bitch!” Kate muttered under her breath, and Talia’s head whipped around sharply, her glare almost lethal now._

_Peter could barely stifle a snort, marveling at how much she resembled their mother in that moment._

_When the Argents had left the room Talia slowly turned towards her brother, her expression almost devastated._

_“What are you doing Petey? Where is this coming from?”_

_Peter raised his eyebrows, his expression amused._

_“Oh come on Tally! I know you and Sebastian are carrier-rights-softies, but you must have seen the recent statistics. It’s been clearly proven …”_

_“Bullshit!” Talia interrupted him, enunciating the word carefully and Peter snorted, refusing to look at her as he twiddled his pen between his fingers._

_“Oh my, the golden child knows how to swear, I’m surprised!”_

_Talia shook her head, exasperated._

_“You haven’t willingly read a statistic in your life! Come on Petey, I know you and you never do anything without motive! What’s the real reason you’ve suddenly decided to turn this company into the most carrier-unfriendly employment atmosphere in the state?”_

_Peter smiled, refusing to answer, and Talia took a deep breath, brows furrowing in anger._

_“Mother! Did she put you up to this? She has no rights to this company and her word does not matter here, you know that!”_

_“Mom’s words **always** matter Talia! In case you didn’t notice, you would have never gotten so far ahead if you hadn’t had her to teach you and if Mom feels uncomfortable with you running a liberal hippie-house that could tarnish our family name then I feel that it is my duty to protect our reputation!”_

_“By openly branding us as hateful **bigots**?”_

_Talia shook her head, gaping in disbelief._

_“Where is this even coming from Peter? You don’t even care about carrier rights!”_

_“Oh I care plenty, and so does Mom! You are the one who’s naïve, you are the one who doesn’t realize the danger they pose! I’ve spoken to Mom about this and she agrees that …”_

_“To hell with what Mother thinks! She is the last person in the world who has a right to say **anything** against carrier rights and I will not have you pollute my company with her self-pitying hatred!”_

_“How dare you speak about Mom that way!?”_

_Peter slammed his fists on the table, glaring at his sister._

_“How dare I … Peter … why are **you** of all people defending her?” _

_“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Peter said coldly and Talia narrowed her eyes, realization causing her to open her mouth in shock._

_“Wait a second … is that … is **that** the reason why she suddenly …”_

_“Loved me? Oh don’t worry **Tally** , you’re still the golden child, at this point I don’t think she could love me if someone held a gun to her head! But she respects me now, and I had to work hard for it! She’ll respect me even more if I change the company policies according to her beliefs and then she will …”_

_“This is insane!”_

_Talia rarely raised her voice but she was well on her way to yelling now, staring at her brother in horror._

_“How long has this been going on? This … this **brain-washing**! How did I not see this?”_

_Peter rolled his eyes._

_“Oh please, don’t tell me you suddenly care what I think! You left home for college and you never came back, the only reason you and Sebastian moved back in with the kids five years ago was that you started the company and needed Mom and Dad to watch them! You didn’t care about what I was up to for all these years, so please spare me!”_

_“Of course I cared Petey! I got updates on you from Maryanne all the time, I …”_

_“Yet you hardly ever came to see me, it was always Sebastian this, Sebastian that, then you had your kids and … you know what? This is ridiculous! I will not defend myself in front of you.”_

_“What’s ridiculous is that you’re not acting like the 26 year old adult you are but like a petulant child, even more so than the 15 year old teenager I have at home! And I don’t appreciate your accusations; I have always cared about you! If it wasn’t for me you would have …”_

_Talia broke off, shaking her head angrily, and Peter leaned forward, eyes glinting._

_“If it wasn’t for you I would be what? Come on, say it, you know you want to!”_

_Talia shook her head again, biting at her lips._

_“Peter, I … don’t push me on this. If you knew how … Peter, **please**! Mother is not the best person to talk to when it comes to carriers, she has plenty of personal reasons to hate them – all of which are completely unfair, in my opinion – and she hasn’t been thinking straight on that issue ever since you were born, so …”_

_She broke off again, her expression vulnerable now._

_“Peter. I’m going to ask you this once and only once, because I love you and I know you’re a good person. Trust me when I say you are the last person who should be advocating against the rights of carriers and their **babies** and please stop trying to push this amendment through!”_

_Peter laughed._

_“Oh please! Focusing on the carrier-babies, really? You know as well as I do that half of them are deranged lunatics and the other half are just butt-ugly, which is what happens when your gene pool is that mucked up! They are filth, just like their freak of nature parents, and I won’t have the company associated with them, end of story!”_

_Talia stared at him, wide-eyed, pain evident on her face, and Peter frowned, not sure how to interpret her reaction._

_“I’m not going to back down on this Talia, this is too big! Mom is depending on me to set your mistakes right and I intend to honor her request!”_

_“So what you’re saying is that, without my knowledge, Mother has turned you into her anti-carrier rights foot soldier, ready to destroy the moral foundation of this company?”_

_“I’m not destroying it, I’m saving it!”_

_“From what? Carriers? They are not the enemy and it blows my mind that an intelligent person like you could ever think so! If it wasn’t for a carrier you wouldn’t even be …”_

_She froze, staring at her brother in horror for a moment, before composing herself and jumping out of her chair, heading for the door._

_Only Peter was faster, slamming his arm against the door to keep her from exiting and blocking it, staring at her with gritted teeth._

_“I wouldn’t even be **what**?”_

_“Peter,” Talia whispered, guilt all over her face now and Peter took a sharp breath, trying to calm himself._

_“Peter, I … I shouldn’t be the one to tell you this, I …”_

_She took a deep breath, holding his gaze, a myriad of emotions flitting over her face._

_“No! This has gone on long enough! This has to stop now! You deserve to know! Before you make this mistake! Peter, you … you are …”_

_She trailed off, expression pained, and Peter stared at her, a warning in his voice as he spoke._

_“I’m a **what**?” _

_Peter’s voice was barley more than a hiss and Talia closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. When she opened them again she looked truly resigned._

_“You’re a carrier-baby,” his sister said softly, looking at him in concern for his reaction and startling when Peter laughed sharply._

_“You would like that, wouldn’t you? Philanthropist Talia Hale, side-tracked for 15 years because of the fruit of her loins, finally remembers she once fought for something and now sees carriers and their filthy spawn everywhere! You’re saying this to get back at Mom, you can’t deal with the fact that she talks to me about the incompetent way you run this business and instead of taking it up with her you’re trying to feed me more lies so I won’t try to interfere. It’s not going to work!”_

_“I’m telling you this because I can’t let you discriminate against people you should feel strong allegiance to! You will regret this for the rest of your life if you push this through! And I’m not going to let you ruin my company because of lies that Mother has fed you in her mission to …”_

_“Her mission? Are you even listening to yourself? That’s paranoia talk and I really think you need to have your head examined!”_

_Peter gestured towards himself, shaking his head._

_“Do you see all of this? Carrier-babies are hideous and have severe mental issues! I suffer from neither affliction! Seriously, of all the lies you could have come up with, this one is certainly the stupidest!”_

_Talia’s eyes were full of pain as she reached out a hand to place on her brother’s shoulder, shaking her head softly._

_“I don’t want to hurt you Petey … you’ve already been hurt enough by all of this. Please don’t make me spell it out for you.”_

_“Oh but please do, I beg you, I would love to take your argument apart piece by piece because it is not going to make sense!”_

_“Have you never wondered why mother always treated you the way she did? Why father treated you the way he did? I tried Petey, I tried so hard to reason with them but I failed you and for that I am so truly sorry but …”_

_“Mom treated me the way she did because she was afraid I would turn out to be a carrier! I don’t know what gave her that idea but there must have been a good reason! Once she knew I wasn’t she started to respect me and I have worked too damn hard for it, I am not going to let you ruin it now!” Peter yelled, slamming his fist against the door once more._

_“As for our father, he is a self-absorbed, weak, pathetic, broken shell of a man and I never cared much for his opinion!”_

_“Did you never wonder why he broke in the first place? What could have possibly happened to make him the way he is?”_

_Talia was yelling now, too, and Peter grinned, the reaction a defense mechanism as he tried to quell down the feeling of **knowing** in his gut, the one that was connecting all the dots on its own even as his sister continued to struggle through her speech._

_“He almost died giving birth to you! He spent two months recovering and mother refused to see him once, refused to interact with you, left me all alone with it, said she had to work, represent the family, make sure all of this wasn’t going to hurt us! Daddy felt like everyone had left him, first your other father, then mother, and I …”_

_“Don’t!” Peter barked, getting into her face and breathing heavily._

_“I don’t have another father! My parents are Philippa and Andrew Hale and you cannot tell me otherwise!”_

_“I was there for your birth Petey,” Talia whispered, her gaze pleading now._

_“I saw who gave birth to you and almost died doing it, and it sure as hell wasn’t our mother! She … she’s not …”_

_“Philippa Hale is my mother,” Peter interrupted her, an edge to his voice that made Talia take a step back._

_“Whatever you think you know, whatever you believe you can gain by manipulating me like this, it’s not going to work! I’m not a carrier-baby and you should leave now! I mean it! I love you, but I don’t know what I’m going to do if I have to look into your lying face for one more second!”_

_“Peter,” Talia began but Peter held up his hand, his gaze cold._

_“Go! I don’t want to see you right now!”_

_“Peter, I …”_

_“Go!” Peter roared and Talia flinched, squaring her shoulders right after._

_“Whatever Mother has tried to turn you into, this is not you! I love you Petey and I would gain nothing from lying if that meant I’d lose you. Nothing at all!”_

_Peter turned away from her, breathing heavily, and after a moment Talia left, the silence in the room stifling once she was gone._

_Shaking, Peter stumbled towards one of the conference chairs, sinking into it and resting his forehead on the cool surface, feeling like Talia had just pulled the ground away from under his feet, a ground that that had been shaky at best, ever since he had been tested for the carrier-gene and really spent time thinking about the issue._

_It hadn’t been the fact that Talia looked so much like their mother while he himself resembled his father, genetics worked in mysterious ways after all, but he had seen the stretch marks littering his father’s entire torso, the sight too similar to the images he had seen in the anti-carrier pamphlets to explain away._

_He had known his father was a carrier for years, his frequent bouts of depression and the way Philippa looked at him sometimes another damning indicator, and he had listened to enough old ladies pinch his cheeks and tell him, “You were such a little miracle, we all thought your mother couldn’t get pregnant again,” to have a pretty good idea who had been responsible for the marks on his father’s skin._

_However, instead of facing it he had locked that information away, deep inside himself, refusing to acknowledge that the harsh, strong, powerful woman whose family name he carried proudly wasn’t actually related to him, and he had focused on getting her approval, aware that she would never love him but taking every ounce of respect he could get._

_Being respected by Philippa Hale was a source of power and Peter was not going to be one of **them** , he was not going to be a pathetic loser damned to a life of failure and misery because he had been born by a man and thus carried certain genetic shortcomings._

_Philippa Hale’s approval had always seemed like the solution to these shortcomings, and when she had made a five-minute call to the president of one of the best schools in the state on his behalf on his 18 th birthday he had known that he had finally proven his worth. _

_Philippa Hale was his mother – it was most certainly not the reality she lived in emotionally, but it had gotten Peter all the advantages he could have ever wanted in the world that he treasured, and he was not going to let Talia destroy his carefully crafted house of lies by hammering away the foundation with truths that no one wanted to hear._

_He had to figure out a way to keep his sister quiet, stop her from trying to change the status quo just so she could protect her precious carriers._

_Peter was so deep in thought that he almost missed the clicking of heels on the floor, startled by the delicate fingers closing around his shoulder._

_“Your sister is destroying this company,” Kate said softly, stroking her fingers up and down his exposed collarbone and Peter leaned into her touch, sighing heavily._

_“My sister lacks vision. She always has, only willing to see the good in people. It’ll destroy everything we worked for,” he agreed and Kate nodded above him, her long hair brushing across his face as she leaned over, pushing the chair away from the table so she could straddle him._

_“You realize I’m two years older than you, right? Not sure I fit your dating profile,” he said, smirking, and Kate threw her head back with a bark of laughter, exposing her soft throat._

_“As you said, your sister lacks vision. Luckily for me, you don’t,” Kate answered, grinding down into his lap and making him sigh again, this time in pleasure._

_“Someone should make her see this vision,” she continued, nipping at his neck, and Peter let his head fall back, closing his eyes as his hands grasped Kate’s waist tightly._

_“Someone should,” he agreed, and Kate chuckled, her hand lightly rubbing at his crotch._

_“I’m glad we agree. Real glad.”_

_******_

_When the bodies were carried out of the burnt wreckage that had once been the proud Hale estate three days later Peter screamed, pulling out his hair in his grief as he sank to the ground._

_He had been outside when the fire had broken out, on the phone with Kate, who had been teasing him about maybe hooking up again, a discussion he hadn’t wanted his sister, brother-in-law, and parents to overhear, and he had suffered burns on his side when he had tried to run back inside to find his mother, to help get her to safety._

_Only his mother was gone, as were his sister, father, and brother-in-law, and as he continued sobbing Peter was barely aware of either the pain in his side or the arms firmly wrapped around him as Kate had held him close, having arrived within minutes after the first responders._

_The funeral was held a week later and as he shook the hands of every member of the New York City elite who had found the time to come, his traumatized nieces and nephew standing beside him and looking younger than they actually were, Peter was glad for the steadying presence of Kate beside him, her comfort the only thing that was keeping him sane in that moment._

_Kate and he had bonded over being the much younger sibling to a powerful executive, they had worked together, partied together, and occasionally slept with each other, though that had been reserved for special occasions, as Kate’s taste did in fact draw her to the younger members of the elite, making their rare trysts more of a renewal of their alliance than anything else._

_Word had gotten out about the proposed changes to the company’s carrier policy the day after their meeting and Kate was convinced that it was connected to the fire, the suspicion of arson still not ruled out._

_Peter had clung to her words, more than ready to believe the carriers had finally resorted to violence, fulfilling their destructive potential his mother had always warned him about._

_The investigator assigned to the case had been sympathetic but reluctant to believe her theory and it filled Peter with rage to know that they would probably get away with it, that his mother had died at the hands of the people she had tried to protect society from the most._

_“Uncle Peter? I just want this to be **over**.”_

_Laura’s voice was small, her hand slipping into his as she stepped closer towards him, while Derek, who had been carrying Cora on his hip for most of the service, her little face pressed into the side of his neck as she had sobbed silently, tightened his grip on his little sister, tears streaming down his face._

_Derek and Cora had always been an inseparable unit, would get through this by having each other, but Laura was somewhat of a lone wolf, drawing strength from power much like him._

_She looked lost without the guidance of her mother, just like he felt debilitated by the loss of Philippa, all questions of biological relation be bottled and flung into the deepest ocean, never to be heard again._

_Peter gripped Laura’s hand tightly, feeling a responsibility towards her that eclipsed the one he felt towards the younger two._

_He could see a lot of Talia’s personality in Cora, could see a lot of Sebastian in Derek, but Laura was a mixture of Talia and himself, in many ways an Alpha personality like her mother but suspicious by nature, just like him._

_Also, her younger siblings loved her, and Peter knew that controlling Laura would mean controlling the entire family, taking over Philippa’s role and perfecting it._

_“It’ll be over soon Laura, and then we’ll rebuild the company, move on from this. Will you help me sweet Laura? To honor your mother’s memory?”_

_“Anything Uncle Peter! I’ll do anything to help!”_

_Peter smiled._

===================

 

Peter had been drinking for three days straight and when he emerged from the constant buzz of alcohol on Thursday morning his answering machine was blinking with 54 messages, the flashing light drilling holes into his eye-sockets.

Most of them were from an increasingly shrill sounding Laura, some were from Chris, there was one from Allison Argent, and even a couple from Kate, and they were all wondering – some more explicitly than others – if he would ever deem to get his ass back to the company to actually work.

What they didn’t know, however, was that he had been working; working to come to a decision that, despite the threats that had easily flowed out of his mouth when he had confronted Derek about the medical fraud in his records, was harder to make than he would have thought.

He had had a meeting with Deucalion on Monday, a meeting during which Deucalion had outlined the specifics of the decision Peter was about to make, and he actually thought it was quite reasonable that he had headed home from the office right after and proceeded to drink himself into oblivion for three days straight.

All in the name of rational decision-making, of course.

Unbidden, his gaze fell on the picture on his fridge, pinned there a long time ago with a silly “I’m a cheese-head” magnet he had once bought on a whim while getting lost in Wisconsin on his way from New York to Chicago – it shouldn’t have been possible geographically but it _had_ been a rather wild road trip – and he wondered why he had never bothered to take it down, especially after he had essentially disowned two of the people featured in the image and loathed two others.

The picture had been taken on the evening of Cora’s birth, which had taken all of them by surprise and led to a spontaneous road-trip with his parents, an experience Peter would have rather avoided.

Talia was sitting in the rocking chair on the porch, smiling down at Cora, whose little fists were pressed against her mother’s chest, covered by the traditional newborn gloves.

Sebastian – he had never stopped calling him Sebastian-Boy in his head – was grinning at Laura, perched on his hip and staring at her new sister with a mixture of delight and suspicion, while Derek – who had turned out to be the Oxford definition of a momma’s boy, just like Peter had predicted – was standing on his tiptoes next to the rocking chair, hands grasping the armrest as he beamed up at his mother, his face carefree and loving.

Derek had been a quiet child and his default expression had often been set to what Peter had called the wannabe-glare, even when he had been content, but he had never glared at Talia once, not even when she had disciplined him for something.

His mother was standing on the other side of the rocking chair, her hand lightly resting on Talia’s shoulders as she smiled down at her newest grandbaby and his father had been standing right next to her, his eyes somber even at such a happy occasion and his shoulders slumped, not even the excitement about a healthy granddaughter able to lift the weight of the world off his shoulders.

Peter himself was standing at the far left of the picture, almost as an afterthought, his eyebrows raised in amusement as he observed the scene of domesticity.

Present-Day Peter remembered thinking that Derek was lucky, that the child’s gender had successfully saved him from losing his status as Talia’s favorite boy, though, as he looked at the picture now, he wondered if Derek would have actually cared, if he would have minded having to share that title with someone.

Talia had given so much unconditional love to her children that there probably would have been enough for five sons _and_ her husband.

Enough for five sons and her husband, but not enough to include Peter, and as he looked at his sister’s serene smile he felt the familiar conflicted emotion that always grew in his chest when he thought of Talia, the feeling of intense loss for the person who had been his world for the first four years of his life, until she had for all intents and purposes abandoned him, coupled with his resentment.

He had no reason to feel beholden to her anymore, not after so many years and so many lies, the worst of them not the fact that he had been born a carrier’s son, that he wasn’t even a real Hale, but that he had spent four years taking comfort from the fact that even though his parents barely spared him a glance he was always going to be his sister’s favorite boy.

Always had turned out to be rather short indeed.

If he went through with his decision he definitely wouldn’t be her favorite boy anymore, that was for sure.

There was a knock on the door and Peter startled, the pounding behind his eyelids getting worse as he shuffled to the door, finding himself face to face with Deucalion, Ennis, Kali … and Kate.

“What a sight for sore eyes,” he snapped, voice coming out gruffer than he had expected and Deucalion smiled politely, pushing past him and making himself comfortable on the armchair in the corner of the room, residing there like an uncrowned king.

“Have you thought about what we discussed?” he asked, getting straight to the point, as was his custom, and Peter nodded, wincing when the movement made him see sparks.

“And you are absolutely, one-hundred percent sure we can’t prevent it?”

Kali nodded, her long legs draped over the corners of the sofa and naked toes flexing, as she had kicked off her high-heels the moment she had set foot into the apartment.

“The will is iron-clad. I don’t know how Talia knew her son would be a carrier, but she made it clear that any carrier-grandchild would stand to inherit a sizeable sum of the fortune and the section below specifically states that anyone who seeks to prevent a carrier-child from coming into its inheritance will be cut out of the will entirely. You are lucky your nephew was in such a state of distress when you lied to him about the will, if he or that little minx you call niece had made the right calls and demanded to look at the records … well … you’d be in the poorhouse by now, probably,” she said, fixing him with a raised eyebrow.

Peter sighed.

“I honestly didn’t think he would be that gullible, but I guess the circumstances were a bit extreme. Of course that little talk you had with him about poor, unfortunate Lucas helped me get my point across. However, my sources tell me that he’s been in contact with Stilinski and his friends at the ERC lately, and while I can intimidate my nephew easily, I won’t be able to do that with them. They’ve made that _perfectly_ clear, in fact.”

“Which means that you need to act fast before anyone actually takes a look at the will and boots you out of the company,” Kate said, fingers stroking her necklace lazily.

“Ergo, the carrier-grandchild has to go. Sooner, rather than later, if you ask me,” she added, smirking, and Peter rubbed a hand over his eyes, all too painfully aware that she was right.

“My own sources tell me that it might actually happen the … uhm, how to put this delicately … the natural way. Your nephew was admitted to the hospital earlier this week, almost gave birth to the child 8 weeks too early. I hear there might be some health concerns with the baby, so it might not take much to make something … unfortunate happen,” Deucalion said slowly, acknowledging Ennis with a sharp nod when the big man began to grin.

“If I know my nephew he’d rather sacrifice himself than let anything happen to that baby. No, I’m afraid waiting for something to happen on its own is too big of a risk to take,” Peter muttered, sinking down onto the recliner with a sigh.

“Well … have you thought about my proposal then? If what Kate says is true and your nephew will be put on strict bed rest once he leaves the hospital it would make everything … significantly easier. He’ll be a sitting duck waiting to be slaughtered, so to speak. I am willing to do this for you old friend, from one like-minded real man to the other, but I need your answer. Dear Ennis and I _are_ taking a risk here, after all, and I would hate for that to happen without your express consent.”

Deucalion smiled sweetly and Peter rubbed at his temples, wondering if the pain was caused by his hangover or the thoughts swirling in his head.

“Will you … you would make it quick, would you?”

“Of course. The child won’t even feel a thing and your nephew … well … yes. I can make it quick.”

“And no one would ever suspect my involvement?”

“There has been communication silence between you and your nephew for well over a month now and he’s got enough enemies beside the RMA to direct suspicion away from us. It’ll be fine. Don’t worry about the details, we will take care of it.”

“Who else knows about this?” Peter asked, stalling, and Deucalion pointed to each person in the room, raising his eyebrows significantly.

“How soon can you do it?”

“I would assume at least another week or so, maybe more. He’ll be in the hospital for a couple more days and once he’s settled at home they probably won’t leave him out of their sight at all, which will make it difficult. If his condition improves, however, I believe they’ll eventually become less vigilant, maybe leaving him alone for an hour or so to run an errand. We’ll do it then. Just have a little more patience.”

“He’s had it coming for a long time, Peter. Accusing me of raping him? Getting himself pregnant by the enemy? Being a fucking carrier in the first place? He’s going to destroy the company once they get their hands on the will – do your really want that to happen? To lose everything again because of a filthy carrier?”

Peter was silent for a moment, gaze flitting back towards the picture and when he got up no one said anything, all the members and – in Kate’s case – secret donors of the RMA watching him as he stepped towards his fridge, tracing his finger along the faces in the photo, whispering inaudibly.

“Mother never had a reason to love me, I can be grateful she didn’t drown me when I came out of that failure of a man. But what you did was worse – you tricked me into thinking I was cared for and then just left me there, touch and love-starved until I was finally old enough to figure out how to make myself worthy. You took my one comfort away from me and you know what? I think it’s about time I even the score and take away something of yours.”

He pulled the picture from the fridge and crumpled it, tossing it into the trash.

It was one of the few pictures they had managed to save, there were no copies and no way to get it back, but he was used to the sensation of no-return, had stepped onto this one-way-flight years ago, the minute he had coerced Jennifer Blake into hiding Derek’s carrier status from him and the rest of the world.

The path was clear and there was only one thing left to do, one last thing that stood between him and taking complete control of the company he had tried to save from ruin all those years ago.

“Alright. Do it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Update: Before next Friday (I know that's vague but I really can't say for sure right now, RL demands and all, plus I am going on vacation on the 15th (meaning there will be a 1-week hiatus, which I'm sorry about, I had hoped to get through posting quicker, but alas, RL) but I'll try my best!)
> 
> Chapter Title: The Calm Before the Storm 
> 
> Chapter Summary: Derek is on bed-rest, giving him and Stiles lots of opportunities to talk, figure stuff out and - possibly - make out. 
> 
> Also to give you a sense of what's coming now that we're in the home-stretch (and since it was pointed out to me how much you adore my cliffhangers) chapters 19 and 20 will end in cliffhangers, chapter 21 offers a bunch of resolutions, and chapter 22 is going to be an epilogue. 
> 
> Love you guys, appreciate the support so much!  
> And again, sorry for the "I probably should have said Cora/Malia are not related" thing, I felt really stupid when I realized that. Or, in my own beautiful native language, I felt pretty damn #dämlich.


	19. The Calm Before the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek is on bed-rest, giving him and Stiles lots of opportunities to talk, figure stuff out and - possibly - make out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My lovelies! 
> 
> A word of (well, not warning I guess, but just so you know): I had hoped to get through posting all of this before tomorrow, but alas, RL does have demands on occasion, so here's the thing: 
> 
> I am going on a one week vacation starting tomorrow, which means the next update will likely be anywhere between a week from now and ten days from now. This chapter ends on a cliffhanger, so if you don't want to wait 10 days until the resolution of the cliffhanger I'd recommend waiting until I post Chapter 20 :).
> 
> Thanks for all the support, I really appreciate the love the the fic has gotten!

“It looks right in there … doesn’t it?”

Cora and Stiles were hovering over the crib, grinning at the stuffed bunny that Stiles had just placed under the brandnew teal bedding and Derek decided to take them at their word, aware that both of his self-appointed watchdogs would have had a heart attack if he’d even attempted to cross through half of his loft.

The place might have been an unsuitable living-situation for a baby, and Derek had definitely started to look for other apartments online, now that he could do nothing else but lie in his bed, but it was definitely suitable for a person on bedrest, as evidenced by the fact that his bed had been easily pushed close to the bathroom door, minimizing the total number of steps he had to take each day.

“Six more weeks and it’ll look even better,” Cora said, looking over towards Derek with a wistful smile on her face and Derek smiled back, praying to every deity he knew that he would make it at least half of that time and trying to ignore the feeling deep inside his bones that he would not make it to term.

Melissa had kept him under close observation for more than a week, running more tests than Derek knew existed for pregnant people, and by the time she had felt comfortable enough to discharge him into Cora and Stiles’ hands he had been more than ready to get home, feeling more comfortable in his own space and – more importantly – anxious to start figuring all of this out with the father of his baby, a feat not easily accomplished when they had constantly been interrupted by busy nurses bustling in and out of the room.

Stiles had taken a particular dislike to a snarky male nurse named Adrian Harris – which ran both ways, Derek was pretty sure – and once he had started feeling better Derek had taken quite a lot of amusement from the way Stiles’ face would glower with indignation if the man just breathed in his direction.

It were these moments of amusement that kept up his spirits as the test results came back, none of them overly bad, but also not as good as he and Melissa would have liked, and as he looked at the crib across the room he felt very conflicted.

Sometimes it seemed like an eternity until his baby would finally be here and now, with the weight of Stiles’ oblivion finally lifted off his shoulders, Derek was able to look forward to the child’s arrival with significantly less mixed feelings.

Not that the threat of Peter’s last words to him wasn’t an ever-present shadow at the back of his mind, but Derek had decided to block them out as best as he could, imagining his stress-hormones pumping into the baby’s bloodstream every time he allowed himself to think about his uncle and his nerves made him almost ill with nausea.

He had no doubt that Cora, Stiles, and especially his baby’s Sheriff-grandfather, would believe him if he confided in them, but they had no legal grounds to hold Peter and even less legal ground to hold Deucalion.

Despite everything that had happened Derek wanted to believe in his heart that his uncle would not cause permanent harm to a member of his family, studiously ignoring the ever-increasing volume of the little voice in the back of his head that kept reminding him about the highly contested birth-control-shots, which – he had since learned on the internet – could have permanently rendered him infertile.

“So I went shopping with Lydia and she told me to buy this for Honey Bunny’s trip home from the hospital. What do you think?”

Cora grinned as she held up an adorable jumper of the exact same teal of the bedding and Derek shrugged, not nearly as invested in his child’s fashion choices as its aunts, biological and honorary.

Derek had known _of_ Lydia Martin but never really interacted with her, however, her close friendship to Stiles and Cora had resulted in the red-headed woman’s frequent presence in his loft in the seven days since he had come home, usually including lots of eye-rolling and exasperated head-shaking as Lydia criticized each and every suggestion Stiles and Cora offered for a make-shift nursery.

Derek didn’t mind the extra companionship, finding that he quite enjoyed Lydia’s levelheaded conversations as she sat on a chair next to the bed and busied herself by knitting baby-caps.

Teal baby-caps, to be precise, since Lydia had decided that with Derek’s natural tan and Stiles’ fair skin the baby would probably land somewhere in between and look particularly adorable in the color. She had also made a matching beanie for Stiles, sharing a conspiratorial smile with Derek when the man had excused himself quickly, sniffling suspiciously.

Lydia was also responsible for the bedding, having argued that teal was neither blue-blue, nor pink and therefore the perfect compromise for a gender-neutral upbringing, combating Stiles’ protests that it was definitely more of a boy-color and thus destroyed her argument by showing up in stunning teal dresses and business costumes for her next two visits.

Stiles had ogled her just a tiny little bit and Derek hadn’t even blamed him.

“It looks cute,” he finally said and Cora nodded, neatly folding the jumper and placing it on his nightstand before she rested one hand on his midsection.

She had been doing it a lot lately, as if she could compel the baby to stay inside by the power of her magical auntie-touch, and so Derek let her, having long decided to grant her blanket permission to bond with the baby.

He was actuely aware, however, that the person who really needed to bond with the baby was stalling a little, looking almost relieved everytime Erica, Boyd, or Lydia joined the little bed-rest party Derek had been hosting for the past week.

Therefore he almost expected Stiles to run when, on Saturday evening, they were suddenly the only two people in the loft, courtesy of something that Cora had called “Bubble Bath Night” at their favorite club but sounded suspiciously like “Let’s give the idiots some privacy”.

“So … alone at last, hmm?” Stiles said, raising his eyebow questioningly at Derek before he sat down on the unoccupied side of the bed with two plates of tacos, sitting cross-legged as he rested his plate on his lap.

Derek, meanwhile, had recently discovered that the crest of his belly made for an excellent plate-holder and for a while they just ate in silence, neither of them sure how to start the first of the many conversation they needed to have.

Not that they hadn’t talked in the past week, but someone had always been there, as his closer friends and sister were still a little shaken over his second hospitalization in a little over a month.

Derek appreciated their concern, he really did, but he also really needed to talk to Stiles about where this was going and when he was done with his food he sat the plate on the nightstand, holding Stiles’ gaze steadily as the younger man fidgeted, hands twitching at his sides.

“You can touch me, you know that, right? Say hi to the baby?” Derek asked and Stiles nodded, exhaling softly as he leaned forward and cradled Derek’s stomach with both hands.

“Hey Honey Bunny,” Stiles whispered, smiling when the child nudged back.

“What are you up to in there? Is it boring? Are you ready to come meet us?” he asked and Derek chuckled.

“Honey Bunny will have to deal with the boredom for now, Aunt Cora has decreed that he or she is not allowed to come out until at the very least Week 37.”

“Three more weeks? Should be doable, right?”

Stiles was clearly trying to sound confident but he didn’t quite succeed and Derek sighed, looking away.

“I hope it is. I really do. I mean, don’t get me wrong, the books say that at this stage in the pregnancy most women or carriers might be over being pregnantand in a way I am, especially now that I am basically not allowed to move, but I know that every extra day is invaluable for our baby’s health, so I’m just … keeping my legs closed I guess.”

“That sounds like something Cora would say,” Stiles chuckled, though he was blushing just the tiniest bit.

Derek shrugged, his face twisting into a soft grimace when his back let out an angry twinge.

“Braxton Hicks?” Stiles asked, concerned and Derek shook his head, leaning a bit forward to knead into his back.

“Too much lying around,” he answered and to his surprise Stiles smiled.

“Do you want me to help, maybe? Erica gets really bad period cramps sometimes and doesn’t really care whether it’s Boyd or the President who massages the tension away as long as it’s working, so I’m actually quite good at giving back massages. If Honey Bunny is a girl I can definitely help her out there, though we both might die in embarrassment,” he mused, eyes shining with amusement and Derek blinked.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to,” he said carefully and Stiles snorted.

“Please Derek, of course I’m sure. It’s about time I actually make a useful contribution to your pregnancy experience … well, except for making the initial contribution in the first place, but you get my point.”

“Vividly,” Derek smiled, leaning forward as best as he could to allow Stiles to slip into the gap between his back and the headboard of the bed.

Stiles hadn’t lied, he definitely knew how to massage away back tension and Derek exhaled slowly, his eyes fluttering shut as Stiles’ long fingers dug into his muscles.

Eventually his hands stopped moving, his breath gusting over Derek’s neck warmly and when Derek leaned back ever so slightly he could feel Stiles’ thumping heartbeat against his shoulder blades.

“We have to talk about this,” Derek said quietly and Stiles chuckled, his nervousness apparent.

“We should, shouldn’t we?” he agreed, letting out a soft breath that tickled against Derek’s ear and Derek nodded, though he didn’t quite sure how to start voicing his feelings.

After a moment of silence, Stiles cleared his throat.

“So, here’s how I see it,” he whispered behind him, lips barely touching Derek’s ear and hesitating only briefly before he wrapped his arms around Derek’s midsection, the gesture intrinsically protective.

“We can’t undo the past couple of months. I wish we could, but we can’t, and even though I want to promise that they’ll never come up, I don’t think I can. Though, to be honest, I don’t think you can promise me that, either, so I guess that makes us even. What I do know, however, is that I like you, I really, _really_ do, and I’m not just saying this because of the baby. I’m not going to lie, the baby is a very big motivational factor for me to try and make this work, but I wouldn’t have spent months trying my best to hate you for destroying what we could have had if it was the only factor. But I want to take this slow, make sure we both really feel it’s the right thing to do. That is, if that’s something you would want, too.”

Stiles sounded hopeful but scared and Derek rested his palms on the man’s hands, squeezing gently.

“I agree with you. I don’t want to be with you just because of the baby, that won’t work in the long run and we’ll be taking it out on our child, which is the last thing I want. But I like you, too, a lot, in fact, and I think we could make this work,” he said, chuckling when Stiles muttered, “We’re both stubborn enough, for sure.”

“How slow to you want to take it?” Derek asked, tilting his head slightly as he rested his neck on Stiles’ shoulder and Stiles huffed out a soft laugh, hooking his chin on Derek’s shoulder as he looked down at their joined hands.

“Well … ideally I’d take you out on a couple of dates, romance you, let _you_ romance _me_ for all you’re worth – I like peanut butter chocolate, just so you know – but we do have a bit of a time crunch here, so how about this: three dates minimum, no kissing, just cuddling. And I want to know everything I can about you, so there’s going to be lots of talking. How does that sound?”

“Sounds perfect to me,” Derek agreed, eyes slipping shut contentedly when Stiles nuzzled against the crook of his neck in response, hands stroking languidly across his midsection.

He hadn’t known how much he had craved this, celebrating the child inside of him with the man who had helped create it, until finally getting the chance; and now that he did, he didn’t ever want it to stop.

Stiles sighed softly, his lips hovering just over Derek’s pulse point and Derek cracked open an eye, smiling.

“No kissing, just cuddling, remember?” he teased and Stiles sighed louder, though he pulled his head back obediently.

“I kinda can’t help that you smell really good to me, Derek. I think it’s a chemistry thing, supposed to clue us in on the fact that we’d make exceptionally good babies with our combined genetic material,’ he muttered and Derek, who doubted he smelled all that good after spending yet another day in bed, decided to take the compliment regardless.

“Stiles?” he asked after a while and Stiles grunted, sounding a little sleepy now.

“What do we do if this doesn’t work out? Before or after the baby is born? I don’t want to go back to how we were before,” he said firmly and Stiles nodded, sounding a lot more awake now when he answered.

“Well, if that happens our goal will be to become the most most amazing, kick-ass co-parents the world has ever seen. Either way, we are both going to love this child so unbelievably much, and if we find that we can’t quite love each other, then I promise you that I will respect you and honor you as the father of my child and I hope you will extend the same courtesy towards me.”

“That almost sounds too easy,” Derek replied and Stiles shrugged.

“Probably. We’ll figure it out though. If not for us then for Honey Bunny.”

There was nothing Derek could reply to that so he just nodded, focusing on Stiles’ even breaths and the warmth of him against his back for a while.

“Stiles?” he asked again and when Stiles muttered, “Yes” he took a deep breath, hoping he wasn’t rushing it too much.

“Would you like to go out with me? Tonight?”

“Tonight, huh? Well, let me check my calendar; yep, spending quality time with the man who’s carrying my baby is definitely on the agenda. What did you have in mind? Are you going to romance me with poetry?”

Stiles was grinning against his neck and Derek snorted.

“Well, I was thinking a bit of cuddling and some talking. In my bed, since we’re already here,” he answered and Stiles chuckled, sounding utterly relaxed.

“I’m going to be honest with you Derek, I usually don’t end up in someone’s bed on the first date. Much. But I think I can make an exception in this case.”

He wiggled a bit behind him and then made an apologetic sound.

“Can we lie down though? I mean, I know you’re getting tired of the horizontal position, but if we keep sitting like this my butt is going to fall asleep and if that happens you’ll feel me wiggle like you’ve never felt anyone wiggle before and it won’t be fun, though it sure sounds like it to those who don’t know.”

“I think I can do that,” Derek said agreeably, feeling just a little bit like a beached whale as he maneuvered his stiff limbs and rolled on his side, facing Stiles, who had rolled on his side as well and was now stretching his legs.

“Hey,” Stiles said, grinning and Derek smiled fondly, feeling almost like a teenager when he said, “Hey,” back.

“I guess we’re supposed to talk about anything and everything now, so I’ll start. What is your favorite breakfast food?”

“ _Breakfast food_?” Derek repeated, both eyebrows rising up and Stiles shrugged.

“Told you I wanted to know all about you. Fair warning though, I consider homemade cherry-cheesecake pancakes to be the pinnacle of human love, so if you’re a plain pancakes with boring maple syrup-guy I don’t think it is going to work out between us.”

Derek grinned.

“Make that strawberry-cheesecake and we’ve got a deal,” he said, chuckling when Stiles rolled his eyes, muttering, “But that’s so predictable!” under his breath.

“Hey Derek?” he continued and Derek grinned.

“Am I a sausage or bacon guy?” he asked and Stiles threw his head back, laughing so hard in that all-body-way of his that it almost made the bed shake.

“I’m _so_ not touching that but touché! No, I … well … I think I’d rather talk about Honey Bunny than about breakfast, now that I think about it. Is that lame? Are we _those parents_ already?” Stiles asked and Derek, who was currently feeling the baby playing drums on his ribs, snorted softly.

“Not lame at all. Anything specific?”

“Well,” Stiles began, dragging out the word a little and looking sheepish.

“I was wondering … did Melissa ever mention to you if Honey Bunny is a boy or a girl during one of your countless examinations?”

“She offered, but I didn’t want to know,” Derek said honestly, raising one eyebrow when Stiles pouted.

“Do _you_ want to know?”

“Yeah! Well … I guess I can wait, if I really have to, but we have to talk about names, you know, and I just think it would be nicer if we could focus on one gender,” he said, fingers trailing lightly over Derek’s flank as he scooted a bit closer.

“If it’s important to you we can ask during the appointment next week,” Derek said and Stiles cocked his head.

“That didn’t sound very enthusiastic. We don’t have to find out if you want to be surprised.”

Derek propped his head up on his elbow, his expression serious.

“It’s not that I don’t want to know, but I have to admit I would like to have at least one nice surprise in this pregnancy,” he finally admitted and Stiles nodded, his smile rather sad.

“I feel you there, I really do. Ok, we won’t find out. But I’m going to be focusing on boy names, just so you know. Stilinski firstborns have been boys going back generations and – at least in my father’s line – there hasn’t been a girl at all in 80 years. Me, my father, his father and two brothers, and his grandfather had four brothers, I think? I mean, there were _some_ girls, obviously, but yeah, pretty sure Honey Bunny is a boy. Hey Derek, do you think he’ll hate that nickname? It does sound kind of girlish, now that I think about it.”

“I’m pretty sure bunnies can be boys _and_ girls, don’t be such a sexist,” Derek replied, shaking his head and grinning when Stiles looked torn between laughing and wondering if Derek was serious.

“That being said, Hale firstborns tend to be girls, so I guess we’re back to 50/50. My great-grandfather on the Hale side was a younger brother, my grandmother was an only child, my mother, Laura …”

He trailed off, blinking quickly and Stiles intertwined their fingers, squeezing gently.

“I’m sorry Derek,” he whispered and Derek squeezed back, telling himself that the tears he could feel in the corners of his eyes were hormonal.

“It’s ok,” he replied, but Stiles shook his head, reaching up to gently wipe away a single tear with his index finger.

“It’s really not. But sometimes we have to accept the things that are not ok and go on living, because stopping yourself from moving forward is a big sacrifice to pay on account of someone else’s limitations.”

“When did you become so wise?” Derek asked, his voice hoarse, and Stiles carded his fingers through Derek’s hair, smile widening.

“My Dad is the wisest man I ever knew, figured I have to step up my game if I want to be a good father to our son. Or daughter. Whatever comes our way, I’ll be handing out unsolicited advice for the rest of my life and I’ll look like a boss doing it.”

“I have no doubt,” Derek agreed, closing his eyes as he leaned into Stiles’ touch.

“Just so you know,” Stiles said softly, voice barely above a whisper in the silent loft, “I’m not going to, because I’m going to stick to my own rules, but I would really like to kiss you.”

“I’d like that,” Derek said quietly and then, because it felt right, he grasped Stiles’ hand that was still carding through his hair, pulling it down to his mouth and gently pressing his lips against each knuckle, his gaze never leaving Stiles’.

“Baby steps?” Stiles asked, breathless, and Derek nodded, guiding their joined hands lower until they came to rest on his abdomen, right above where the child was still moving around.

“Baby steps,” he agreed.

When Cora and Malia tiptoed into the loft at 3 they shared an amused smile at the sight of both men spooning on the bed, deeply asleep.

It became a thing.

Despite Derek’s outrageously predictable love for strawberry-cheesecake pancakes.

**==================**

 

One week and many rounds of 20-questions while cuddling with Stiles later Derek was officially 35 weeks pregnant and seriously felt like cursing whoever had been responsible for spreading the rumor that pregnancies only lasted nine months, not really sure how he could survive five more weeks on bed-rest without going insane.

“Do you want food Derek? Are you hydrated, Derek? Do you want an extra pillow, Derek? Would you like me to turn the air conditioner down or up, Derek? Are you feeling ok, Derek? Are you in pain, Derek? Are you bored, Derek? Do you want me to move the television, Derek? Are you so annoyed by me right now that you’re plotting my mysterious demise, Derek?”

Derek loved Cora with everything he had, really, he did, but after two weeks her constant interrogations regarding his physical state were really starting to wear him thin.

Scott had called the night before with a Kira-crisis and even though Stiles had been willing to brush him off Derek had insisted he go, reminding him that he still had a sister and Stiles needed to be there for his best bro every once in a while.

Naturally, the first night in almost a week that Stiles hadn’t been there had turned into Braxton Hicks central and Cora had been in a state of red alert all day, looking like she was about ready to forbid him from ever moving again and shadowing him like a hawk when he got up to make the short walk to the bathroom, seemingly convined he was going to double over, collapse, and have the baby right here on the linoleum floor.

When she appeared on the side of his bed with a bucket and suggested that unless he had to go number two – “Or maybe even then, I really don’t mind at all, Derek!” – he should just pee in the bucket to avoid even the short trips to the bathroom, Derek lost his patience.

“For heaven’s sake! I’m carrying the baby; I’m not the baby myself!” he barked and Cora slammed the bucket down with a loud clang, glaring at him heatedly.

“Oh yeah? Mr. “I hid my pregnancy until I collapsed and then didn’t tell my sister my baby wasn’t alright and I also would have kept the truth from the father if he hadn’t found out by a crazy coincidence”? Forgive me for not trusting your decision-making skills Oh Wise One!”

She looked horrified the moment the words were out of her mouth, but it was too late to take them back and Derek stared at her wide-eyed, having expected her to talk to him about keeping the baby’s growth issues a secret for a while now, but not having anticipated her exploding in such a manner.

“Cora … are you okay?” he asked, anger turning to concern when he noticed the tears in his sister’s eyes and Cora shook her head angrily, whirling towards the door that had just opened to reveal a very concerned looking Stiles.

“There you are, good, I need to get out of here like yesterday! He’s all yours! Have fun!”

Cora slammed the door on the way out and Stiles looked back and forth between the door and Derek, looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Uhm … don’t fight children?”

Derek wondered if he looked as stunned as he felt and after a moment Stiles sat down on the bed next to him, sighing wearily.

“So I didn’t hear all of that … well, I think I heard enough of it, but you know she didn’t mean it like that, right? She’s … she’s going through something right now,” he said softly and when Derek turned towards him in alarm Stiles held up his hands.

“Whatever you’re thinking right now is not it. It’s just … well … I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but I also don’t want you to feel hurt. She had a run-in with Laura the other day. It wasn’t pretty. And I think it reminded her that she’s only got you and Honey Bunny left now and when you brush off her concerns I guess … well, I guess it makes her angrier than it normally would.”

“What did Laura say?” Derek asked, feeling cold, and Stiles shook his head.

“A bunch of crazy stuff, apparently. Seems like your uncle hasn’t really been to work in weeks, ever since all of this happened, people are resigning at the firm left and right and Chris and Laura are trying to do damage control, only it’s not really working. They had a screaming match over Cora’s continued involvement with the ERC and then I guess she said something about you and … well … it wasn’t pretty. Don’t take it personally that she blew up, she’s … she’s grieving the loss of a sister and grief makes us lash out at the people we love most sometimes. Believe me, I’d know.”

“I wish she’d told me. Then again, I guess I can’t complain,” Derek said quietly, staring at his hands, and to his credit Stiles refrained from pointing out just how accurate that assessment was.

“Hey. Derek. She’ll be ok. She’s probably on her way to Malia’s now and if what Malia texted me this morning is true then your sister is in for quite a round of cheering-up, so how about I take your mind off things we can’t really change now? No worrying and stress for you, only puppies and rainbows,” he decided and when he got up Derek noticed the large box standing in the entrance.

“Stiles? What’s … that?”

“It’s a holo maternity raft. It’s designed specifically for pregnant women and carriers who like to lie on their stomachs and you can either use it in a pool or on top of a mattress. The hole is for the belly, see, so you won’t put pressure on it and since I just happen to know you like to sleep on your stomach I figured that you’d maybe enjoy not having to lie on your back all the time, since all you do is lie around for now.”

Derek felt a surge of deep affection towards the man as he inspected the cover photo, though his eyebrows pulled up into a frown when he sized up the diameter of the hole.

“If I get stuck in that you’ll be in charge of pulling me out,” he decided, hoping he didn’t sound too much like he was barely able to stop himself from kissing the man senseless in gratitude and smiling when Stiles pulled the already inflated mattress out of the box.

“I’m pretty sure we’ve established that I’m not the best at pulling out anything,” Stiles muttered absentmindedly before he froze, looking at Derek with wide eyes.

“Uhm … I did _not_ say that just now! It was my evil twin! I swear!”

Derek laughed, marveling at Stiles’ ability to make him feel better so quickly and noting that Stiles’ shoulders relaxed immediately.

“Call me crazy but I’m actually glad you aren’t quite so good at that. Just … don’t leave me in here when I do get stuck,” he teased and Stiles nodded dutifully, his cheeks still flaming red.

When he placed the mattress on the currently unoccupied half of the bed Derek reached for his hand, grasping it gently.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said and Stiles smiled, shaking his head.

“After all that provider-talk Malia drilled into me in Lamaze class I figured I might as well, you know,” he muttered, blushing again and reminding Derek of that first time he had seen him blush, which really did not help with the ever-increasing kissing urges.

“Need help getting up here?” Stiles asked and Derek raised his eyebrow, still not a hundred percent convinced he wouldn’t get stuck.

“I have to do it now?” he asked and Stiles nodded firmly, eyes glinting with fondness.

“I schlepped this thing all across town, you totally have to repay me letting me watch you be totally comfortable and relaxed,” he decided and Derek shrugged, muttering, “Seems like I’m getting the better part of the deal here,” and ignoring Stiles’ determined headshake.

He felt a bit awkward as he got down to his hands and knees on the mattress to slot his belly over the hole, almost as if he was a puzzle piece that needed to be fitted, but once he was lying down he couldn’t quite keep in the contented sigh at finally being able to assume his favorite resting pose again.

Stiles clapped his hands, sounding pleased when he muttered, “Told you!” and pushed a pillow under Derek’s head, allowing him to snuggle into the cushion.

“How’s your back doing?” he asked when Derek was comfortable and Derek sighed, wiggling his hips with a grimace.

“I’m ready to be able to move around again and regain all the back muscles I seem to have lost in the past week alone. It could be worse but you know – it could also be better.”

“I’ll take that as a request, Derek,” Stiles said softly and Derek nodded hesitantly, telling himself to be cool about this and not dissolve into a puddle of hormonal, love-struck goo.

“I seem to remember something about magic fingers,” he muttered and Stiles grinned, flexing said digits.

“Well, I did boast about my skills quite a bit so you’d be a fool if you didn’t ask for them.”

He knelt down next to the mattress and gently placed his hands on Derek’s back, trailing his fingers along the hem of his shirt.

“Hey Derek … I don’t know if you’re comfortable with this, but it would make much more sense if you took your shirt off? That way I can actually use some lotion or something and it would be more effective.”

Stiles sounded almost shy when he asked and Derek contemplated the request for a moment, not sure how he felt about Stiles seeing him like this.

Stiles’ hands had been all over him – well, the PDA-appropriate, clothed parts of him – in the past week and it wasn’t like he didn’t _know_ , but he had yet to see the way Derek’s skin had grown stretched and taut to accommodate the growing baby and the thought of Stiles actually _seeing_ him like this was making him feel – on edge.

Even if he felt silly about it.

“Unless it would make you super uncomfortable, I don’t want to make you feel …”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Derek interrupted him, pushing himself up enough so he could actually take the shirt off while Stiles went off in search of some lotion.

He was already lying down again when Stiles returned and Derek held his breath when he heard the sound of a cap popping open, the situation almost bizarrely reminiscent of their one night together.

The baby kicked, reminding him that there was most definitely something different about this now, and when Stiles began to smooth his fingers over Derek’s tense muscles he let out the breath he had been holding, telling himself to relax, enjoy the sensation, and remember to respect Stiles’ boundaries.

Stiles’ fingers really were magic, Derek thought to himself as he could literally feel the knots becoming untangled, wondering how long it would stay that way.

“Want me to do your feet, too? While I’m at it?” Stiles asked after a while and Derek, who had almost fallen asleep and was feeling rather boneless, grunted sleepily, muttering, “Sure. Not that I’m really using them right now, but sure,” under his breath.

Stiles chuckled, his hand resting on Derek’s lower back and stroking lightly.

“Well, I could do it like this, technically, but I think it would make more sense for you to sit up for that so I can actually prop your feet up in my lap and really press down? I think this way the angle might be a bit weird.”

“Sure,” Derek repeated, prior concerns completely forgotten as he groggily pushed himself off the mattress and sat back against the headboard of the bed, blessedly relaxed back propped up against the pillows.

He closed his eyes, waiting for the pleasant sensation of Stiles’ fingers expertly kneading his feet, but there was no movement from Stiles.

Instead, all Derek could hear was a slight hitch in the other man’s breath and he cracked open one eye curiously, wondering what was going on.

A second later his eyes flew wide-open when he realized that he was still half-naked, his arms coming up to cross over his chest automatically as he blushed fiercely.

Stiles swallowed heavily, hands twitching at his sides as he stared at Derek’s belly, his own face flushing beet-red when he realized what Derek was doing.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t think, I … baby steps, I know, I … do you want to put your shirt back on?”

His voice sounded hoarse and Derek took a deep, calming breath, telling himself not to be ridiculous when he uncrossed his arms and rested them against the pillows instead, trying not to think about the fact that the last time he had been lying in front of Stiles like this his abdominals had been a six-pack and not a curve.

Stiles’ gaze was almost transfixed and when his hands twitched again Derek sighed, feeling strangely vulnerable yet hopeful when he noticed the rawness in Stiles’ eyes.

“Do you want to say hi to the baby?” he asked, sounding just as hoarse as Stiles had earlier and Stiles nodded, wide-eyed.

“Yeah,” he breathed, swallowing heavily, and then he gently pressed his palms against the sides of Derek’s stomach, his eyes firmly on Derek’s face as his fingers began trailing up and down the curve.

When he brushed one finger over the dark line on the center Derek coughed, fighting the urge to cover one of the adjacent stretchmarks.

“I know it’s not pretty,” he said to diffuse the tension, heart pounding in his chest when Stiles shook his head almost reverently.

“Are you kidding? You’re beautiful, you’re …”

He broke off, biting his lip, both hands cradling Derek’s belly once more and Derek inhaled sharply, wondering if Stiles could hear the pounding of his heart or if his own ears were rushing as loudly as Derek’s, blocking out all other sound.

Stiles met his gaze, blinking rapidly, and Derek slowly rested his hands over Stiles’, giving the younger man plenty of time to pull away.

The younger man stared at their joined hands, then back at Derek’s face, and when he leaned forward Derek held his breath, feeling more nervous than he had ever felt in a romantic situation.

Stiles had slept beside him nearly every night for the past week, they had been on more than three dates, so to speak, and even though he was still scared it would all go up in flames Derek decided – for once in his life – to stop denying himself.

The kiss was soft, gentle, and Stiles let out a sound that was almost a sob, as if he’d found relief for an ache that had been plagueing him for far too long.

Derek shared the sentiment.

Since Stiles’ hands were still firmly placed on his belly Derek used his hands to pull the man closer, leaning up as best as he could as he cradled Stiles’ face and Stiles let out another sob, a sound that travelled up and down Derek’s nervous system, tingling in all the right places.

The time for baby-steps was most certainly over, he decided, almost overwhelmed with need as he tugged at the hem of Stiles’ shirt, pulled it up, and Stiles held up his arms quickly, breath quickening when Derek threw the shirt over the edge of the bed.

Then they were kissing again and the sensation of Stiles’ skin on his skin was all at once glorious, terrifying, and exhilarating, the kind of drug he’d gladly be addicted to for the rest of his life and that, instead of pain and death, brought only happiness and life as a side-effect.

Said life was currently kicking up a storm, clearly responding to its father’s heightened heartbeat and Stiles chuckled, bending down and kissing all over Derek’s stomach, taking his time as he went further down.

Derek leaned back, enjoying the sensation and he was ready to let out a rather undignified whine in protest when Stiles suddenly paused, straightening back up with a conflicted expression.

“I want to, god, I _really_ want to, but I don’t think orgasms are allowed when someone is on bed-rest,” he said, uttering a shaky laugh.

Derek groaned.

“I don’t think blue-balls are very helpful, either,” he muttered, but he could see where Stiles was coming from, the knowledge successfully decreasing his arousal as he smiled at Stiles, still not sure it had actually happened.

“I think kissing is allowed, though,” Stiles volunteered immediately, motioning for Derek to lie down on his side and then they were once again all tangled up in each other, kisses languid and deep, trying to make up for all the time that had been lost.

They never noticed Cora come back two hours later.

 

===============

 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?”

Cora shook her head, her smile a little forced, and Stiles sighed, tightening his hold on Derek, who was leaning against his chest and watching his sister with a sad smile

The youngest of the Hale siblings had apologized for her outburst the day after Stiles and Derek had officially changed their imaginary Facebook status to “It’s super complicated but we’re happy” – at least according to Erica – and, after a bit of gentle prompting, had detailed her run-in with Laura, though she clearly looked like Derek was out of his mind for even wanting to know.

Stiles could understand both of them; Cora for trying to keep Laura as far away as possible from Derek and Derek for wanting to know nevertheless, having long since decided that family was a blind spot for the man and that, even though he felt it was misguided, he could really learn to love Derek based on his loyalty alone, as well aware as Cora that, if Laura ever apologized, Derek would probably forgive her.

“She believes that carrier-activists set the fire to your family’s house, you know that, right?” Stiles had shared at one point during the conversation, frowning when both Hale siblings had started laughing, though without much humor.

“She’s not _that_ stupid,” Cora had waved his argument away and Derek had added that Laura usually shared that particular theory when she was drunk, arguing that there had to be something else to explain her behavior.

It had been a revealing exchange for Stiles, proving to him that, despite Cora’s intense anger towards her sister and her instinct to protect Derek and the baby, she, too, still loved Laura and, even if she didn’t want to admit it, was searching for an answer that would let all of it make sense, something that could be fixed and that, once resolved, could actually restore balance to the life they had lived for the past 16 years.

For both Derek and Cora’s sake Stiles hoped they would find that answer one day, even if he himself believed that the search itself wasn’t particularly worth it.

“I mean it, though, I could wait outside and help you carry back whatever that lawyer has waiting for you,” Stiles tried again, but Cora shook her head once more, motioning towards Derek meaningfully.

Derek immediately snatched his hands away from where he had been rubbing at his aching hips with a grimace, looking guilty, and Stiles sighed, digging his fingers in to relieve some of the tension Derek had been complaining about for the past two hours.

“I could call Erica or Boyd, I’m sure they’d be willing to keep Derek company while we deal with the legal stuff,” he tried once more and Cora sighed the sigh of the long-suffering, grabbing her bag with determination.

“If I really need someone to help me carry stuff I’ll just call Boyd or Malia from Kali’s office. Seriously, I’ll be fine; I just want to get this over with. If I had known getting my share of the company and severing all ties would be _that_ time-consuming I would have waited until after the baby is born, at least then I’d no longer have to worry I’m going to miss something big while I have to run all over town,” she grumbled, fixing her brother with a meaningful glare that spoke of a recurring discussion.

Stiles, too, wondered why Derek didn’t seem in a hurry to get his share, now that the company had let him go under their discriminatory policy, but he could understand that the man had bigger things on his mind right now.

It wasn’t like they needed the money right this minute, Stiles’ job payed well enough, but Lydia, who, after everything that had happened, had just enrolled in law school for a second career, had already drawn up a battle plan, leaving Stiles with no doubt that his friend could have secured Derek’s inheritance with what she knew about the law right now, despite having just finished her first semester.

“I couldn’t bring you in anyways, Kali says it’s confidential. It’s stuff that that Mom left me,” Cora continued and Stiles pressed a kiss to Derek’s forehead when he felt the man tense, hoping with everything he had that whatever Talia had left her daughter would be nice and not prove that she, like her brother, had also been severely carrier-phobic.

It was one of the things Derek agonized about, Stiles had learned in one of their nightly conversations, and when Cora closed the door behind her Stiles crossed his fingers for good luck, well aware that Derek was thinking the same thing.

Derek was tired today, more so than usual, and when he noticed him nodding off Stiles slipped off the bed, raiding the fridge for something that would make a good afternoon snack for a tired, almost 36 weeks pregnant man who needed some comfort.

He had just placed a bowl of hot tomato soup on the nighstand – made from scratch, because he had been in the business of getting people to eat healthier for a long time and would excel at making home-made baby food for his child – when his phone lit up with a text message from Cora.

“Told her she’d need help,” Stiles muttered, turning towards Derek, who was taking slow sips of the soup.

“Something wrong?” he asked and Stiles shook his head, showing the screen to him.

“Apparently your mom left her some heavy oak-desk and they had to take it out of the office when Cora started filing her paperwork. Kali seems opposed to having the thing clutter up her space,” he explained and Derek nodded in recognition.

“I remember that desk. Cora used to fall asleep under it when Mom brought her to work, she would tell her it made her feel like she was Peter Pan and sleeping in a tree house. It makes sense for her to leave it to Cora,” Derek smiled and Stiles shook his head fondly, once more hoping that Talia Hale had really been the nice person he’d conjured up in his head and not the hateful bigot that all evidence pointed to.

The phone lit up once more and Stiles nodded, relieved.

“Alright, Cora says Erica is on her way to make sure you’re ok until we get back. I’m going to wait with you until she gets here and then …”

“Erica lives twenty minutes away, I’ll be able to survive on my own for that long,” Derek interrupted him, looking a little non-plussed at the degree to which he had been babied lately and Stiles frowned, not really liking that alternative.

“What if you trip and fall on your way to the bathroom?” he asked, flinching when Derek threw him an incredulous glare.

“I’m sure I can refrain from falling to my death before Erica gets here. It’ll be tempting, but I’ll behave,” he said dryly and Stiles sighed, leaning over to kiss him in apology, both hands rubbing his belly, a gesture that came automatically now.

“I know. I just worry.”

“And I love that you’re worried, I do, but it’s not necessary. Go help my baby-sister, before she throws out her back and has to join me for the bed-rest extravaganza,” Derek replied and Stiles sighed again, though he got up obediently.

Derek waved him away with a smile, eyes soft as he watched him go and Stiles decided to dial down the paranoia just a touch, aware that Erica was quite capable of taking care of his boyfriend and his baby.

It still felt a bit strange to call Derek his boyfriend, the term somehow not big enough to encompass what they had, but as he boarded the subway that stopped by Kali’s office, a small townhouse in one of the more affluent parts of the city, he couldn’t quite think of something more appropriate.

When he rang the doorbell 40 minutes later no one answered and Stiles frowned, ringing the bell again as he double-checked the address on his phone.

 **Here, where are you**? he sent to Cora, shaking his head before pushing the call button.

Cora’s cell rang for a while and when it went to voice-mail he frowned again, only to turn around in confusion when he could hear familiar voices approaching from around the corner.

When Cora and Malia noticed him they stopped in their tracks, looking as confused as he felt.

“Stiles? What are _you_ doing here, shouldn’t you be with Derek?” Cora called out, sounding immediately worried and Stiles held up his phone slowly, then pointed towards the door.

“I got your text! I thought you needed my help?”

“Text? I didn’t send you a text,” Cora answered, opening her purse and digging around inside, frown deepning when she didn’t seem to find what she was looking for.

“Hon, did you grab my phone when we left the studio?” she asked and Malia shook her head slowly, expression troubled.

“What? No, you didn’t even use it,” she answered and Stiles blinked rapidly, suddenly feeling cold.

“What do you mean, you didn’t send me a text?” he asked, and Cora shook her head, still rummaging around in her purse.

“Shit!” she cursed, and when she finally looked up her eyes were wide.

“I think someone stole my phone, must have swiped it in the subway, it was super crowded in there! What are you talking about, what text?”

Stiles held out his phone with a shaking hand and when Cora took one look at the text she paled, letting out a gasp.

“That wasn’t me! I didn’t even talk to Erica today!” she exclaimed.

“Why would someone steal your phone and then send Stiles a text to come meet you here, that doesn’t make any …”

“ _Derek_!” Cora interrupted her, eyes widening further as her head whipped around, looking at Stiles with an almost pleading expression.

“You didn’t leave him there alone, did you? Please tell me he’s not alone there right now!”

“I thought Erica was going to come … he told me to … _fuck_! _No_!”

“Surely you guys don’t think that …” Malia began, but Stiles had already dialed 911, breath coming out in short gasps as he held the phone to his ear.

“911, what’s your …”

“My boyfriend and my child are in danger! I need the police to go check on him right now!”

“What’s the address, Sir?” a male voice asked curtly and after he had promised to send help there right away Stiles started running, not even caring if Cora and Malia followed.

The other shoe had finally dropped and he just prayed he wouldn’t be too late.

 

===================

 

After Stiles had closed the door behind him Derek snuggled back into the cushions, curling up around his pregnancy pillow as he tried to find a position that was at least semi-comfortable.

He hadn’t been on his own in over two weeks now, almost a month, in fact, if one counted his stay in the hospital, and even though he was looking forward to hearing Erica’s “I told you so’s” about his and Stiles’ recent relationship development rather than reading her – occasionally crass – texts, he also cherished the quiet, aware that the days of quiet would soon be over.

If he was completely honest, Derek couldn’t wait.

Sighing, he closed his eyes, his head resting on a pillow that smelled like Stiles and Derek felt decidedly content, wondering if it was a bit pathetic that he already missed his boyfriend.

It was a strange word to apply to a grown man, but he could adapt.

A key turned in the lock and Derek, who had given Erica a key to the loft about half a year into their working relationship, contemplated whether to give up the comfortable position he had finally achieved or not, deciding that Erica and her challenged sense of personal boundaries would probably cuddle up right with him and demand all the gossip about Stiles and his regrettably PG-13 love-life.

Therefore he just stayed as he was, waiting for his assistant to deliver an – undoubtedly well-prepared – sexual innuendo.

“Hello Sweetie.”

Derek froze, eyes opening wide as he noticed three things in succession.

His visitor was _not_ Erica.

His phone was on the other side of the bed, well out of his reach … and there was a gun pointed at his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Update: Approximately May 25th
> 
> Chapter Title: The Storm 
> 
> Chapter Summary: The Evil Troika threatens Stiles' family and Stiles ... ain't havin' that s#@$
> 
>  
> 
> P.S:
> 
> I put this on my Tumblr, but I only use that thing once-in-a-blue-moon, so I'll just ask here, as well: 
> 
> Would anyone be able and willing to help me out with a little fan-arty 'gimmick' for the Epilogue of this story? 
> 
> It’s nothing too elaborate I’d say (think hand-written notes as in taking minutes fan-art style) and I’d do it myself, but I’m neither capable of doing picture art - my art teacher in 8th grade drew on my picture once to make it better and I erased it because I was insulted and then he gave me a C out of spite, but that's more of a side-note - , nor do I even know how to input that on AO3 (still haven’t even mastered hyperlinks), so I’d need a crash-course on that, too.
> 
> Also, you would have to not mind knowing what the epilogue is going to be about ;). 
> 
> So if anyone would like to volunteer, please shoot me a message on tumblr, but I should add that it really is more of a 'neat touch' rather than 'so essential that the quality of the epilogue rests upon it', so no pressure :).


	20. The Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a 10 dollar licorice-latte in Brooklyn last week and I have now achieved coffee-heaven. Delicious, overpriced, yet glorious coffee-heaven. 
> 
> On that note, thanks for waiting for me and here's the next chapter!
> 
> There are a couple of TRIGGER WARNINGS for this one, so if that's a concern for you please skip to the end-note first before you read this chapter.

“It’s a bit late to be lying around like a slob, isn’t it?”

Kate’s voice was taunting, each word setting Derek’s nerves on edge. He didn’t dare move, not when there was a gun pointed at his head, yet his arms wrapped themselves around his middle automatically and Kate laughed, a high-pitched, ugly sound.

“How adorable Sweetie! You _love_ the little abomination, then? Well, that’s a shame now, isn’t it?”

“They tend to do that.”

Deucalion stepped forward, his expression disgusted and Derek’s eyes flitted across the room, lingering on Ennis’ excited, almost feral grin before he locked eyes with his uncle, who was leaning against the beam closest to the door, looking like he was trying to blend into the shadows.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here, Derek. Well, the answer to that is quite easy – because we are very disappointed with you.”

Deucalion sniffed theatrically, looking down at Derek with a mock-sad expression.

“You were doing so well, fighting against those freaks of nature and finally giving our movement the attractive face it needed to possibly sway the spineless moderates, making our majority large enough to put enough pressure on our elected officials to overthrow all the advances carriers have made in the past years. But no, you just _had_ to be a carrier yourself, didn’t you? This might be a surprise to you, given all the _harassment_ you experienced in the past couple of weeks, but in case you haven’t seen the polls, the support for carrier rights has actually _increased_ ever since your shameful secret has been discovered! Poor, mistreated, fainting Derek, having to hide something so big for so long because you were afraid of your own family? Putting your baby at risk just so you wouldn’t get discovered? Being spat at on the street by your former friends and supporters? Well, what a sob-story! The ERC has been spinning this tale quite well, even the bleeding-heart-liberal President has started hinting that an overhaul of the laws might be in order.”

Deucalion grimaced, his nose twitching as if he was smelling something extraordinarily bad.

“Look at you! Our shining star, the realest of real men, all swollen up with some traitor’s baby. Or maybe Mr. Stilinski isn’t the father at all; maybe you let yourself get fucked by another carrier, since no _real_ men would have touched you? Then again, with Mr. Stilinski’s lineage it stands to reason whether he is actually a real man, so I’m afraid your precious child is doubly cursed by its twisted genetic material. And we can’t well let such a child be born now, can we?”

“Don’t. Please,” Derek whispered, voice flat in his stunned shock and while Ennis and Kate smirked Peter looked away, towards Deucalion, who was shaking his head.

“It’s normal for them to plead. They don’t get we’re actually doing them a favor,” he said coldly, turning towards Ennis, who was nodding firmly, his voice full of mockery as he spoke.

“Poor Lucas cried and screamed but that didn’t help him. I’m sure you can beg a lot better, can’t you Derek?” he asked, smiling as if he was recalling a particularly fond memory.

Even though Derek had suspected the man had been the one to commit the heinous crime against Deucalion’s ex-lover, the confirmation let his blood run cold.

“If you harm my baby I’ll …” he began; only to reel backwards when Kate slapped him hard across the face, splitting his lip.

The pain, however, was minor compared to the sensation of his head colliding with the sharp edge of the headboard and he hissed, fighting the automatic urge to inspect the wound with his fingers, his instincts to not leave his middle unprotected winning out as he wrapped his arms tighter around himself instead.

“You’ll speak when we tell you to!” Kate snapped, looking towards Ennis as he stepped forward.

Kate was still pointing her gun at him, but for a moment Derek forgot all about it as Ennis wrestled his arms away from his midsection to pull them behind his back, struggling against the bigger man only to receive a fist punch right against his temple.

He once again reeled back, groaning in pain when Ennis’ knee made a violent impact with the small of his back, doubling him over and finally allowing the other man to subdue him.

Temporarily disoriented by the pain Derek was near helpless as Ennis wrenched his arms back and then hoisted him up and off the bed, half-carrying half-dragging him to the middle of the room where he pushed him down onto his knees so roughly the thud resonated all the way up his spine.

Clenching his teeth against the new pain Derek raised his head, only to be slapped once again, the force nearly toppling him over as Ennis’ tightened his grip on his arms.

Deucalion shook his head, smile lethal, and when his vision cleared Derek’s eyes flitted towards the door, half-hoping, half-fearing Erica would come, desperate for her to call help but terrified for her safety.

“Oh, are you waiting for someone? Miss Reyes perhaps? I’m afraid to say Miss Reyes won’t be joining us tonight. In fact, Miss Reyes has no idea she is expected,” Deucalion mused and Derek’s eyes widened, his heart thumping in his chest painfully.

“Stiles will realize something is wrong, he’ll …”

“I said don’t speak unless we tell you to!” Kate cried shrilly, a high heel digging into his skin as she delivered a sharp kick against his side.

Ennis’ grip on his arms behind his back tightened even more as Derek once again struggled to free his arms, to protect his baby from Kate.

The woman laughed, lifting her foot once more and resting the sharp tip of her heel right on the crest of his stomach.

“One more word out of you and I might just push my foot down. Want to bet what I might possibly hit?” she hissed and Derek stilled, even though the panic for his unborn child was now almost whitened out by a powerful surge of pain wrapping around his torso and tearing at his insides.

He wasn’t sure whether it had been the knee to his back, the kick into his side or the stress, but he remembered this particular pain all too well, his teeth almost breaking through his lip as he realized that he had once again gone into labor, still four weeks away from his due date.

“You’re looking rather pale all of a sudden, Derek. Something the matter?”

Deucalion looked delighted and Derek pressed his lips tighter together, muffling the groan of agony when Ennis forced him upright. He tried to jerk backwards when Deucalion rested both hands on his stomach, pushing down firmly this time and lingering just long enough to feel the muscles under his hands contracting.

“There’s one other thing, Derek. I hate being made a fool of. And you had me fooled so well, the second time that a filthy carrier was able to hide a pregnancy from me. You know that saying: fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice shame on me? Well, I don’t like to feel ashamed and even though I must applaud you for convincing me that you couldn’t possible be pregnant after drinking yourself into a stupor to keep me from discovering your secret, that still doesn’t change the fact that you weren’t honest. And I hate dishonesty. So I’m afraid this has turned personal now.”

He patted Derek’s belly again, expression thoughtful.

“Those are quite strong kicks, too. I don’t think it’s very happy with you right now, but I’m afraid that can’t be helped.  It would probably live if it were born right this moment, wouldn’t it, seeing how your belly is so big? It looks like we’ve already set the process in motion, excellent! You probably want it to be over anyways, don’t you? What do you say, Derek? Should we let your little baby take its first and last breath _before_ we break its precious little neck or should we just kill it now, while it’s still inside of you? Ennis tells me that the sounds Lucas made when he felt the child die were quite memorable, I’d love to experience it myself!”

“Why wait?” Kate interrupted, trailing her gun across her lip before she crouched down in front of Derek, pushing the barrel right into the center of his stomach, against bare skin, where his struggle with Ennis had rucked up his shirt.

“Kate, Kate, Kate,” Deucalion tsked, shaking his head reproachfully.

“You never did master the art of patience. Shooting him will kill both of them at the same time and where’s the fun in that?” he lamented, looking towards Peter with a cold grin.

“We want our dear Derek here to reap the consequences of his disgusting actions, isn’t that right, Peter?”

Peter pursed his lips as he looked down, and for a moment Derek hoped his uncle would come to his senses, stop the madman in front of him who had just pulled a long, sharp knife out of his jacket.

Yet, Peter remained silent, refusing to look at him as Deucalion trailed the knife across Derek’s jugular, making his breath catch in his throat.

His abdomen contracted painfully once more, the pressure on his back and pelvis intensifying to near unbearable proportions.

Derek let out a terrified low whine when he felt fluid seeping through the seat of his sweatpants, aware that there was absolutely no way to stop his child from being born too early now.

Kate let out a disgusted noise, followed by an alarmed hiss when there was a sharp knock at the door and for a moment Derek once again hoped, his heart speeding up as a tall NYPD officer stepped into the loft, only to groan in frustration when the officer clapped Ennis’ shoulder and then stepped right next to Deucalion, fixing the man with a worried expression.

“You might want to speed this up Duke. Baby-daddy called 911 and our guy in dispatch says he sounded frantic. He’s probably on his way here right now and unless you want to kill him as well we should finish this quickly and get the fuck out of here!”

“Looks like our decision has been made for us,” Deucalion responded, sounding just the slightest bit disappointed as he yanked Derek’s chin up.

“Well Derek, you heard our dear Deputy Haigh, we can’t wait for your baby to make its grand entrance after all. Oh don’t look so disappointed, I was looking forward to snapping its neck, too, it would have been a once in a lifetime experience, but we can’t get everything we want, sadly.”

“You killed your own daughter,” Derek whispered, voice shaking with terrified fury, and Deucalion shrugged.

“Oh Derek! We’ve been over this! A carrier-born girl is destined for a hideous life of misery, despair, and isolation; I did the child a fatherly act of kindness by sparing it from this fate. Speaking of carrier-born children …”

He trailed off, nodding towards the deputy and Ennis and even though another contraction  - too soon, they were too close together – made it hard for Derek to focus he didn’t miss the surprised yelp of shocked outrage escaping his uncle when the deputy whirled towards him and pulled his gun on him.

“Is this a joke, Duke?”

Peter sounded strangled and Derek gasped when Ennis’ grip on him loosened, only to be replaced by Kate’s delicate forearm wrapping around his neck and pressing down on his jugular, her other hand pushing the gun right against his temple.

“Don’t even think about it, Derek,” she purred against his ear as Ennis manhandled a yelling Peter down to the floor in much the same manner as he had him, aware that even though his arms were free now Kate would be able to pull the trigger and likely kill him before he could get a good grip on her, his vision too blurred from the repeated blows to his head and the pain still searing through his abdomen.

“Duke!” Peter gasped, crying out in pain as Haigh smacked the gun against his temple, drawing blood.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out Peter? Granted, your _mother_ hid it well, but dear old Philippa made one crucial mistake! See, about 16 years ago a very interesting journal came into my possession, filled with all kinds of detailed descriptions of your poor mother’s greatest shame! It was quite a riveting read, very revealing indeed. I can never thank dear Kate here enough for securing it _before_ she set your pathetic, disgraceful family on fire!”

Deucalion threw the old, battered journal to the floor, the pages opening to reveal his grandmother’s delicate handwriting and Derek’s eyes widened, the pain of the contraction fading into the background as blood began to rush in his ears, all of his muscles tightening in fury as he realized just what exactly Duke had said.

“What did you just say?” Peter gasped next to him and Kate let out a chuckle, right into Derek’s ear and causing him to grind his teeth.

“But you wanted it Peter, didn’t you? You didn’t want your disgrace of a sister to turn the company into the most carrier-friendly rathole on the planet and so _we_ decided to take action! I knew you didn’t have the guts to light the final match and actually do something about the threat facing us all, so I took matters into my own hands!” she gloated and Derek’s vision whitened in fury at her callous words.

He bucked against Kate as Peter let out a roar of unspeakable grief, ready to take his chances and rational thought completely forgotten as the realization that the _murderer_ of his family was pressing her arm against his throat rang through his brain like a gunshot.

Kate yelped in alarm, her balance momentarily thrown off and then Deputy Haigh was there, leaving the trashing Peter to Ennis’ chokehold as he whacked his gun across Derek’s face, making him black out for a second and causing him to slump to the floor, to heavy for Kate to hold any longer.

When he came to about a minute later Peter was still roaring, struggling against Ennis to get at Kate, who was standing next to a highly entertained Deucalion now and pointing her gun at Peter, while the tall deputy’s knee was pressed against the small of his back, gun pushing into his side to keep him from making a wrong move.

“You see, Peter,” Deucalion said, seemingly ignoring Peter’s roars, “When Kate found that notebook the night before she set the fire she brought it directly to me and we agreed that you couldn’t be trusted with the decision process. After all, you have said it plenty of times yourself, carrier-born boys are often not quite right in the head and we couldn’t well trust an insane person now, could we?” he asked and Kate’s eyes narrowed, her expression disgusted once more.

“You weren’t supposed to make it out of there, you know? I almost killed you myself when I found you outside the house, but that would have seemed too suspicious, sadly. You have no idea how close I have come over the past 16 years, how painful it has been for me to know that a _filthy_ carrier-baby was making decisions at _Hale_ & _Argent_!But Deucalion kept telling me to wait; he kept saying the opportunity to finally get rid of you would present itself on its own! I guess that day has come now! Two in one strike, how delightful!”

She cackled manically, grabbing the notebook from the floor and leafing through the pages with a gleeful expression.

“You killed my _mother_!” Peter screamed, sounding deranged, and Kate snorted, holding an open page in front of him.

“She wasn’t your mother, Peter! She _hated_ you! Until her very last day she couldn’t stand the sight of you, couldn’t forgive your filthy carrier-father for what he had done! You were her biggest disgrace, her biggest shame, and based on what she writes in here I’m actually surprised she didn’t drown you like the filthy mutt that you are!”

“No! You’re lying!” Peter screamed, closing his eyes against the undeniable proof held in front of him but Kate’s smile only widened, her finger running across the pages almost lovingly.

“The sight of him makes me as nauseous as if it had been only yesterday that I had to see him be pulled out of my husband’s filthy, unnatural birth canal. He believes the knowledge he didn’t inherit the carrier-gene has softened my feelings towards him, like a pathetic, filthy puppy desperate to be loved, but how could I ever love him, how, when I can barely stop myself from wrapping my fingers around his throat and squeeze with everything I have,” Kate recited, flipping between pages.

Peter let out a broken whine, ceasing his struggle against Ennis’ hold and slumping over, breathing harshly.

“She wished for your death all your life Peter! Aren’t you glad you can finally make _Mommy_ proud?”

Kate pushed the barrel of her gun against Peter’s temple, looking at him expectantly, but Peter didn’t reply, seemingly lost in his own world, mind broken beyond repair, his body limp against Ennis.

The sound of the gun was muffled but Derek jerked violently nevertheless, squeezing his eyes shut as warm blood sprayed all over him, feeling the thud of Peter’s lifeless body hitting the floor all throughout his bones.

As if in response his pelvis exploded in pain, an uncontrollable urge to push overwhelming all of his senses and even though he knew he should not fight it he did, as if holding out just a little bit longer would somehow help him escape the inevitable.

“One down, two more to go!” Deucalion exclaimed, crouching down in front of Derek and once more resting his hand on his belly, the gesture a twisted imitation of Stiles’ gentle touches.

Derek closed his eyes, his thoughts centering on his baby’s father and praying like he had never prayed before that the man would realize something was wrong and come to his rescue.

The walkie-talkie of the deputy let out a string of garbled noises that he couldn’t piece together and suddenly Deucalion’s hand was gone, his voice sharp as he, Ennis, and the deputy whispered heatedly.

A second later Deucalion turned towards Kate, who was still grinning down at Peter and clearly hadn’t noticed the quick exchange between the three men in her triumph.

“Kate, dear, looks like I have another pressing engagement to attend to. I trust I can leave our dear Derek in your more than capable hands,” he said rather than asked, a tinge of regret in his voice as he stood up, followed by Ennis.

Kate turned towards them, looking confused.

“What? But we agreed that …”

“We agreed that we’d kill both of them while we had the chance and with Peter out of the way and Derek here just about to give birth to his filthy spawn and literally in no position to fight you I’m sure you can handle the rest on your own. It _is_ your company’s reputation that’s on the line, after all, and I’m afraid we really must get going.”

“But …”

“I will see you at the headquarters,” Deucalion interrupted her and with a last meaningful push of the barrel against his skin the deputy stood as well, jerkily motioning for Kate to train her gun at Derek, leaving Derek free to move as he pleased for the first time since the ordeal had begun.

Not that he could have done anything except push at this point, Derek thought, the urge to bear down finally becoming to great to ignore and he couldn’t stop the scream escaping his lips in time, feeling like he was burning up from the inside.

“Unless you want to see the mess you should be quick about it,” Deucalion instructed, the men’s steps retreating hastily and then Derek and Kate were alone, the murderer’s smile widening as Derek let out another scream.

“Well then, Derek! Shall we go have ourselves a baby?”

=================

 

Malia was driving like a maniac but Stiles didn’t care, his mind chanting _Derek, Derek, Derek_ , over and over as they raced through the city.

His phone rang, startling him, and when he picked up his father’s voice rang through the speaker, sounding deeply disturbed.

“Stiles! Listen to me! I called my friend in the commissioner’s office right after you told me what was going on and the deputy they dispatched to check on Derek is not responding! Something is going on and that officer is either dead or working with whoever has Derek! My friend is suspecting the latter, since the responsible dispatcher cannot be found either and my gut is telling me the same! I’m on my way down there right now but you have to be careful when you get to Derek’s place, you hear me? My friend just sent out more officers to check and you have to _promise_ me to let them do their job!”

“There is only one police car here!” Stiles replied breathless, bracing himself against the back of the driver’s seat as Malia brought her little car to a screeching hold right in front of Derek’s building, the police car barely visible as it was parked in a distance.

He was out of the car a second after, ignoring his father’s frantic calls not to do something stupid as he ran towards the building entrance, almost barreling over the doorman as he made a mad dash for the elevator, Malia and Cora hot on his heels.

The elevator door had just closed behind them when Malia grabbed Stiles’ shoulders, roughly pushing him against the panel and shaking him.

“Stiles! You need to pull yourself together right the fuck now! We have no idea what’s going on and if you barge in there like a headless chicken Derek and the baby might die before you’ve taken three steps! Are you listening to me? The same goes for _you_!” she barked, glaring both at Stiles and Cora, who stopped pacing around the crowded space and gave her girlfriend a wounded look.

“He’s my _brother_!” she hissed and Malia growled, her grip on Stiles’ shoulders tightening.

“He’ll be your _dead_ brother if we barge in there without knowing what’s going on, so here’s what’s going to happen! We’re either going to wait for the police to get here and handle it the professional way or we are going to be careful, got it?”

The elevator came to a dinging halt and it took both Cora and Malia to forcibly restrain Stiles when the first sound they became aware of was an agonized scream, muffled through the thick door to Derek’s loft but nevertheless audible.

There were no other apartments on Derek’s floor, no one they could have asked for help, and Stiles forced himself to breathe, his resolve to heed Malia’s advice and wait for the police lasting right until Derek’s next scream as he broke out of Malia and Cora’s hold, using up all of his control to force himself not to barrel through the door, which was standing just the tiniest bit ajar.

“Hurry up then, we really haven’t got all day and I’d rather get this over with _before_ baby-daddy comes back and finds you and his bastard dead!”

Next to Stiles Cora coiled like a spring ready to snap and Malia swiftly put herself between the both of them and the entrance, nudging the heavy door open quietly.

Stiles’ heart stopped for a fraction of a second when he noticed all the blood, resuming its beating in a frantic gallop when he noticed Peter’s lifeless body, eyes zooming in on Kate’s back as she towered over Derek, who was writhing on the floor and gasping in pain, Kate’s gun held almost loosely in her hand as she dangled it next to her side, clearly not viewing the pregnant man as a threat.

“This brings back _so many memories_ Derek!” Kate purred, apparently too focused on the laboring man in front of her to notice that Malia had nudged the door open even further, a finger held to her lips as she began inching towards Kate, the soft sound of her lifting the heavy griddle Stiles had used to make dinner with the night before drowned out by another loud scream as Derek arched off the floor.

“The last time I had you in front of me like this you were screaming, too, begging, crying for me to stop, but you were so drunk I could have tipped you over with my pinky finger! You don’t even remember that, do you? How you begged for me to stop but actually wanted it, how it was all just a game? Well, the time for games is over Derek and as soon as you push out this disgusting piece of trash you will …”

Derek’s eyes widened, gaze fixed on Stiles, Malia, and Cora approaching quickly, and Kate whirled around, raising her gun but unable to react fast enough when Malia brought the griddle down on her face hard, the sickening crunch almost making Stiles nauseous as Kate dropped to the floor, howling in agony, the gun falling out of her hands and going off soundlessly.

Cora let out a string of curses, her face white as she bent over and pressed her hand against her side and Malia tackled Kate to the floor, swinging the pan once more and knocking her out for good this time.

Derek was trying to push himself up, gasping, “Cora!” before he screamed again and Stiles rushed over to him.

“Derek!” he exclaimed, falling to his knees as his eyes frantically skimmed over the man.

Apart from three ugly bruises on his face he seemed more or less unharmed, but his breathing was labored and his complexion was ashen, yet he once again tried to push himself up, once more gasping, “Cora!”

“I’m fine Derek! I’m fine, she just nicked me, it … _fuck, ouch_!” Cora tried to soothe with a strangled voice, hissing in pain when Malia tugged her shirt up to inspect the wound, pressing her hand against her girlfriend’s side as she tried to keep her from rushing over to her brother as well.

“Cora, keep pressure on this or you’ll …” she began, but Cora shook her off, staggering towards Derek and Stiles and sinking down on her brother’s other side, looking paler than normal but very much alert.

“Call an ambulance!” Stiles barked at Malia, cradling Derek’s head on his lap as he felt all over his stomach, gasping in alarm when the next contraction made Derek groan.

“Water broke … baby coming … can’t stop it anymore!” Derek gasped and then Malia was there, experienced hands tugging down his pants and checking him before she nodded at Stiles, her expression twisted in worry.

“He’s right! Baby should be here within the next 15 minutes!” she reported, voice steady as she slipped into professional mode.

“Derek, I need you to work with me ok, I need you to … _Derek_! Hey, Derek!”

Stiles’ eyes snapped towards the man’s face as Malia’s voice turned shrill in alarm and he noticed in horror that Derek had gone almost limp in his arms, his eyes fluttering as he seemed to slip in and out of consciousness.

“Derek!” Cora cried and Stiles bent over, desperately pressing a kiss against his hairline, his mouth, the bruises on his cheek and temple, whispering, “Stay with me Derek, _please_ , stay with me!” and letting out a choked sob when Derek seemed to force his eyes open out of sheer will alone, looking at him like he was in a daze.

“Hurts! Too soon!” he whimpered in pain and Stiles placed one hand on the other man’s stomach, stroking across his hair with the other.

Derek’s eyes were wide as his right hand joined Stiles’ on his belly and Stiles squeezed it tightly, intertwining their shaking fingers in a protective gesture over their baby.

“You’ll be ok Derek, Honey Bunny will be ok Derek, don’t be afraid, please don’t be afraid!” he whispered, lifting Derek’s hand to his lips and kissing his knuckles over and over, the first tears running down his cheeks now when Derek’s face contorted in pain as he screamed once more.

There was commotion in the background all of a sudden, Malia’s voice barking out orders and Stiles, who hadn’t even noticed the paramedics’ arrival, jerked when he was suddenly pulled away from Derek, struggling against whoever was holding him as Derek was loaded onto a stretcher.

“We need to get him to Doc McCall right now!” the guy who was holding Stiles was saying as he pulled Stiles to his feet.

“Go! I’ll be fine, just go!” Cora exclaimed, hissing once more as another paramedic was checking her wound and Stiles stumbled after Derek, past a female police officer who was barking questions at a frazzled Malia, feeling like he was on autopilot.

In the years to come Stiles would barely be able to remember the ride to the hospital, the only image clear in his head the terror in Derek’s eyes everytime he was told to push, his hand gripping Stiles’ tightly and his mouth wordlessly forming the words ‘not yet’ in between his screams.

The ambulance came to a halt, the doors were opened, and then Melissa was there, taking over just in time to guide out the head.

As Derek’s body geared up for the final push Stiles’ breath was taken away, the busy sounds of the ambulance and Melissa’s soothing voice fading to the background as he stared at the soft shock of almost black hair on the baby’s head, feeling as if his mind had exited his body and was overlooking the entire situation from a distance, wondering, for the briefest of moments, if the universe was playing one last, cruel prank on his family.

His dziadek had collapsed in front of a hospital all those years ago, almost having his mother right then and there in the parking lot and now his own child was going to be born in a similar setting, brought into this world by a carrier who had almost paid the ultimate price of their society’s hatred.

Derek’s grip on his hand became bone-crushingly strong and Stiles was jerked out of his stupor when Derek bore down one last time and then collapsed onto the stretcher, letting out a sob that was part relief, part pain, and part desperation.

Stiles held his breath, eyes never leaving the frail, tiny baby; his heartbreakingly and impossibly tiny, yet beautiful and perfect baby, who was safely cradled in Melissa’s arms as the doctor cleared its nose and mouth.

He kept right on holding his breath, a stubborn voice in the back of his head insisting that he’d only breathe again when his baby took its first breath and when the child let out a staggering cry he felt boneless, taking deep, gulping breaths as his knees buckled under him.

He had to hold on to the stretcher as he bent over, pressing his forehead against Derek’s for a brief moment, taking a second to compose himself before he straightend back up and wrapped one arm around Derek’s shoulder, helping him sit up just enough so that Melissa could place the baby on his chest, immediately covering it with a heat-retaining blanket.

The baby’s breaths were shallow, labored, but it _was_ breathing, its little mouth working but no strength left to continue crying, clearly feeling displead about its dramatic entrance into the world.

Even though it was hardly more than a minute, Stiles later felt that the world had stood still for hours in that first moment, his fingers intertwining with Derek’s over the baby’s back, gently holding the child in place.

“We love you,” he whispered, though he wasn’t quite sure if he had actually managed to produce a sound, feeling his heartbeat in his throat as he took in the tiny, miniature-like fingers flexing against Derek’s naked skin, the little mouth with the surprisingly full lips, the cute little upturned nose and the tiniest little set of moles splattered right next to it, leaving no doubt that this was in fact his baby, the baby he had made with Derek and who, despite the entire universe seemingly conspiring against them, was finally here, alive, perfect, beautiful, and _theirs_.

“Hey,” Derek whispered, his voice almost gone, yet carrying the promise of unconditional, existence-shattering, to-the-moon-and-back love and Stiles’ breath caught in his throat once more when Derek’s eyes flickered up to his, extending the promise not only to their baby but also to him.

His eyes were blurring with tears as he lifted the index finger of his free hand, gently touching the baby’s tiny hand and letting out a ragged sob when the child flexed its fingers against his, eyes closed but nevertheless aware of them – or at least that’s what he desperately wanted to believe, his chest feeling too tight to contain all of the emotion he had no idea how to put into words.

A hand was placed on his shoulder and when he turned around Melissa was smiling softly, her grip on his shoulder firm as she gently guided him away from the stretcher, making space for the paramedics who were getting ready to take Derek out of the ambulance.

When they were all standing outside she wrapped one arm around Stiles’ shoulder, placing her other hand on Derek’s shoulder.

“Derek, Stiles, I know this is hard but we have to get Honey Bunny to NICU right away, those little lungs need a bit of help and we need to start ruling out the possible complications of the entire IUGR situation. So you have to let go now, ok?”

Derek let out a pained noise, his eyes squeezing shut as his grip tightened on the baby momentarily and Stiles barely managed to keep in a sob himself, feeling his heart break over and over again as he watched the NICU doctor take the baby from Derek, feeling like his entire being was trying to split in two as he watched the man rush their child into the hospital, gripping Derek’s hand tightly when the other man started to shake, silent tears running down his cheeks.

“We need to make sure you are doing ok as well, need to check if there is any internal bleeding from what you went through, alright?” Melissa said softly, cupping Derek’s cheek gently and wiping at the tears with her thumb, looking like she was about to cry herself when Derek pressed his face against her touch, whispering, “I don’t care, I just want my baby!” and breaking Stiles’ heart all over again in the process.

For the next three hours Stiles functioned on autopilot, clutching his phone tightly and checking it every couple of minutes for an update from Melissa on Derek as he answered the police’s questions in a secluded waiting room.

Malia was there with him, looking pale and worn-out and Stiles startled everytime she spoke, constantly forgetting that she was also in the room, seeing the people in front of him and not really seeing them at the same time, when all he could think about was the teeny tiny fingers, the little moles, and the frail little body of his baby, imagining those tiny lungs struggling for each breath and wondering if this was what going insane felt like.

His father arrived just as the police officer finally wrapped up his interrogation and for a moment Stiles wondered if there was a wild animal in the vicinity, belatedly realizing it was him making those awful sounds when his father yanked him into a hug and started rubbing his back, soothing him as if he was the baby himself.

“I want to see Derek!” he croaked when he was able to utter words again and when they finally let him into the room Stiles hesitated for a moment, suddenly terribly afraid Derek would blame him for this, blame him for his thoughtlessness in not checking in with Erica before he had left Derek alone and put their baby at risk.

Derek still looked pale, the bruises on his face a stark contrast to his pallid complexion and his face crumpled when he saw Stiles, hand reaching out as he let out a small sob.

Stiles all but flew to him, kissing his mouth, his nose, his forehead, whispering, “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry!” over and over and Derek shook his head against him, muttering, “I love you, I love you, I love you,” in return.

Stiles had only ever said “I love you” to one person besides his father, mother, and dziadek, and even then it had taken Danny almost two years to coax it out of him, their break-up shortly after having led Stiles to believe that I love yous really didn’t mean much outside of family, that it was better to just not bother with saying them at all and just try to act as loving as possible instead, keeping unnecessary awkwardness out of any romantic situation.

Now, however, he felt like a volanco ready to erupt with a sheer cacophony of I love yous, not only for Derek but also for their baby, his father, Cora, his emotions a raw, hot, bubbling mess that couldn’t have cared less that former Stiles would have rolled his eyes at anyone declaring love for a person he had only really actually been in a relationship with for a rather short number of days.

It didn’t matter, however, because no matter what the future would bring, no matter how things would work out between them in the long run, he would always love Derek for bringing their child into the world, for making him a father and giving him the perfect little baby he was aching to properly hold in his arms for the first time.

And there was no reason not to tell him.

“I love you! God, Derek, I love you both so much!” he breathed and when Derek spoke next he sounded hoarse, licking his chapped lips and gratefully accepting the glass of water the Sheriff held out without comment, the new grandfather’s eyes looking rather moist as well.

“How is my sister?” Derek asked, looking like he was expecting the worst and Stiles, who had managed to pull himself together long enough to learn from Malia that Cora was as fine as anyone could be with a flesh wound caused by a bullet nicking her side, that she was cursing out everyone in a one mile radius, and that she had had to be sedated as a punishment for actually trying to march over to the NICU to see the baby, told him as much, squeezing Derek’s hand gently when the older man sighed in deep relief.

“Can _we_ go see the baby?” Derek asked next, voice pleading, and Stiles nodded, not sure if they actually could but ready to waltz down everyone in his path who’d try to keep Derek from seeing the baby he had carried for so long.

“Can you walk?” he asked and Derek nodded, though his confidence turned out to be premature when his knees buckled under him as soon as he was standing, wincing as he rested his hand on his abdomen.

Stiles gave him an alarmed look and Derek shook his head, explaining, “Cramps. Melissa says it’s normal,” and Stiles exhaled slowly, wrapping him up in his arms and steadying him, all the while saying silent thank yous that he was still alive, that Kate hadn’t done to him what she had done to Peter, and when the Sheriff returned with a wheelchair he gently helped him sit, holding his hand all the way to the NICU.

The doctor who had taken the baby from Derek earlier didn’t look surprised to see them when the nurse buzzed them in, having previously instructed them to don caps, gloves, and gowns before she had allowed them inside.

“We’re here to see our baby,” Stiles said, unnecessarily, and the doctor nodded, motioning them over to an incubator to the far left of the room.

The baby looked even smaller in the large incubator, like a little astronaut with its breathing tube, limbs comparatively long but slender and its tiny chest moving up and down slowly but steadily, the sight lifting a bit of the weight off of Stiles’ shoulders.

He couldn’t help but marvel at the fact that they actually made diapers in this size, had probably said that out loud given the doctor’s amused chuckle, a sound that carried through the otherwise somber atmosphere in the room.

“We try our best to make our little patients comfortable here, for as long as they have to stay with us,” he explained, motioning for the Sheriff to wheel Derek next to the incubator.

“What’s the prognosis?” Stiles asked, trying to sound steady but failing miserably and the doctor smiled.

“Well, I’m sure Melissa explained to you that when a baby is this small we like to perform a c-section just in case, but your little lady not only beat us to it but is showing no signs of her condition having taken a turn for the worse because of the stress of the birth-canal delivery, which is a good sign. Her breathing is not working as well as we’d normally see in an almost full-term baby but she has responded really well to the breathing tube so far and when we fed her some formula earlier it stayed down, which is also a good sign. Her blood-sugar level is lower than it should be and we’re monitoring that carefully, but so far no signs of jaundice and most of our routine tests were quite positive as well. We have administered a round of medication to keep her safe from infections since she will have a harder time fighting them while she is not able to breathe on her own just yet and we’ll likely repeat that for the next couple of days. She’ll have to stay with us for a while and I can’t promise we won’t run into some other complications, but so far you have a little fighter on your hands here and maybe in a month or so we can talk about sending her home,” he explained, looking at them in sympathy when both men let out pained sounds.

“ _A month_?” Derek whispered brokenly and the doctor nodded.

“I’m afraid so. It’s for her benefit though, Mr. Hale, we want to make sure she is as healthy as can be before we send her home,” he said, eyes softening when Derek stared at the ground with glassy eyes.

“You can hold her now if you want though,” he continued and both father’s heads snapped up, Derek’s eyes resembling those of a starving man and Stiles looking startled.

“Are you sure that’s safe? With the breathing tube and everything?”

“There’s nothing better for a baby than being held by the people who love it, speeds up the healing process like you wouldn’t believe,” the doctor waved his protests away, instructing Derek to hold up his arms before he lifted the baby out of the incubator, gently placing her in his arms.

His father was questioning the doctor in the background as Stiles pulled up a chair to sit next to Derek, resting his head on the man’s shoulder and stroking the baby’s legs, determined to let her know they were both here, that they weren’t going anywhere.

“Do you want to?” Derek asked after a while, voice brimming with emotion and Stiles gazed at her longingly, his arms twitching.

“What if I break her when I take her?” he whispered, looking up searchingly for the doctor and smiling gratefully when the man came over, understanding his silent plea for what it was as he lifted the baby out of Derek’s arms and placed it in his.

“I love you! I love you so much!” he whispered, really not able to say much else as he tried to pour all of his love into her tiny body, feeling like he would gladly give everything he had to give and more if that was what it took to make her grow faster, make her lungs stronger, make it possible for them to take her home.

When the doctor placed her back in the incubator his arms ached with the loss, his hand searching for Derek’s and holding it tightly when he saw the same loss reflected in the older man’s eyes and neither of them said a word on the way back to Derek’s room, each of them overwhelmed by the rollercoaster of emotions they had gone through that day.

“I’ll let you boys get some rest,” the Sheriff said softly, squeezing first Stiles and then Derek’s shoulder before he gently shut the door behind him.

Derek looked at him pleadingly and Stiles settled down on the bed next to him, careful of his still cramping abdomen and trying not to jostle him too much.

When he began to gently massage the still swollen skin Derek sighed, his eyes fluttering shut as he relaxed against Stiles’ chest.

Derek looked about ready to pass out and Stiles felt the same, even though he had felt like he would not be able to sleep again until his baby was over the worst of it just minutes before.

He was almost ready to snuggle against Derek when his eyes suddenly flew open, as he became very much aware of a teensy-tiny little detail mentioned in passing earlier.

“Derek!” he gasped, craning his neck so he could look at him and Derek muttered, “Hmmm?” his eyes heavy with sleep.

“Did that doctor say we have a _daughter_?” Stiles asked, feeling decidedly surreal all of a sudden and Derek’s eyes flew open as well, as if he also hadn’t really paid attention to that particular detail just yet.

“I think he did. Right?”

“I think so? Holy shit, we have to find that out for sure! I mean, I also think he did, but I was too busy looking at her to really pay attention to be honest. Now I’m so tired I don’t even trust my memory of five seconds ago, so he could have been saying something else entirely! Should we … should we call the nurse and ask?”

“Wouldn’t that make us look like really bad parents?” Derek wondered, staring at him wide-eyed and Stiles nodded, muttering, “The _worst_!” and looking scandalized at himself for a minute, eyes widening when Derek started to chuckle, the laughter pouring out of him and turning into tears almost immediately, as if a dam had broken and all the stress of the last few months and the horrible hours that lay behind them had finally found a vent.

Stiles threw his head back and started laughing, too, tears pouring down his face as well and they just held each other for a while, laughing, crying, anchoring each other and – to an outsider – probably looking like lunatics as they shook with the force of it all, hands grasping at arms and shoulders as their sobs eventually became quieter.

“Is everything all right in here?”

Stiles lifted his head out of the crook of Derek’s neck to look at Melissa, who was looking at them both worriedly and fondly, the bags under her eyes almost as pronounced as the ones under Derek’s.

“Yes. Everything’s going to be ok. We’re ok. We were just wondering … do we actually have a daughter now?”

Melissa raised her eyebrow, apparently wondering if he was joking but when Stiles kept looking at her in earnest, yet exhausted curiosity her expression softened in understanding.

“She’s a beautiful, perfect, little Honey Bunny,” Melissa answered gently and Stiles beamed, pressing a soft kiss against Derek’s temple and gasping as a thought occurred to him.

“Oh my god, I have to tell my dad!”

Melissa shook her head, her gentle smile giving way to downright amusement as the tension of the day bled out of her face, as well.

“No you don’t. Unlike you, that was the second thing he asked. Right after “Are they ok?” in fact. He was muttering something about “Pink dresses, all the pink dresses!” and looking like Christmas came early as he left, so I think he’s quite happy.”

“What did you tell him? When he asked if she’s ok, what did you tell him?”

Derek’s voice was soft, pained but hopeful, and Melissa sat down on the edge of the bed, taking both of their hands in hers and squeezing gently.

“She’s got a bit of a fight ahead of her, but if she inherited only half of your combined stubbornness she’ll be just fine! And so will the two of you.”

She leaned over, pressing soft kisses to each of their foreheads.

“You’re all going to be ok.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings:
> 
> 1\. Minor Character Death (not the baby or anyone we actually care about based on the comments so far)  
> 2\. The Descriptions of Violence tag strongly applies to this chapter  
> 3\. Kate briefly gloats about her abuse of Derek, so please tread with caution if that triggers you  
> 4\. Scenes that take place in a NICU, so if that brings back any kind of painful memories, please be careful.
> 
>  
> 
> Well, here we go! First off, surprise, not another cliffhanger of evil, I had originally planned to cliff this just before the birth, but figured this ten day hiatus was really quite enough for everyone. 
> 
> Also, since I've been somewhat burned by "How DARE you make the baby a Girl, I'm DONE with your writing!"-Gate of 2014 and do understand why some people get a bit frustrated with the amount of girl-births in mpreg fics (if you're interested in my take on why there are slightly more girl-births than boy-births in those fics, feel free to read my end note in the last chapter of "Derek and Stiles Have a Baby"): I have a reason for making the baby a girl in here and you'll find out why in the Epilogue ;). 
> 
>  
> 
> Next Update: I'm actually planning to get the next update and epilogue to you before I have to take a business trip next Tuesday, so let's cross our fingers for that and not hold the author (who does feel a bit goofy for speaking in pluralis majestatis now, but feels that she should be forgiven for the left-over euphoria of Scandinavian imported licorice coffee-royalty! On that note, CONGRATS SWEDEN, producers of great licorice and great music for winning Eurovision! I'll go lick my patriotic wounds over our 0 points in a corner now) to a specific date. She adores all of you and she'll try her darndest! 
> 
> Title: "I don't have a title"
> 
> Chapter Summary: Almost all loose ends are tied up (e.g. Derek and Cora respond to the revelation that Kate murdered their family and that their mother and father were fiercely pro-carrier rights, what has Laura been up to, will there be consequences for Kate, will Deucalion be successful in trying to pin all of this on her by fleeing the scene before the cops' arrival, what is going to happen to Hale & Argent, etc.) and Derek and Stiles continue to bond with each other and their baby as the new little family finds some much needed rest and relief in the aftermath of all the pain. 
> 
> P.S: Also, Coach Cupcake and Greenberg make another appearance and Nurse Harris unleashes unholy terror on Stiles and Derek when the exhausted fathers fail to provide him with their daughter's name before the end of his shift.


	21. Rebuilding After the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Many loose ends get resolved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost there folks!
> 
> Once again, thanks for all the support this fic has gotten, I adore you guys and your comments, they really encouraged me throughout this!

“Frère Jacques, frère Jacques, dormez-vous? Dormez-vous? Sonnez les matines! Sonnez les matines! Din, dan, don. Din, dan, don.“

“Stiles?”

“Jaakko kulta, Jaakko kulta, herää jo? Herää jo? Kellojasi soita, kellojasi soita, pium paum poum. Pium paum poum.”

“Stiles?”

“Bruder Jakob, Bruder Jakob, schläfst du noch? Schläfst du noch? Hörst du nicht die Glocken, hörst du nicht die Glocken? Ding, dang, dong. Ding, dang, dong.”

“Uhm … Buddy?”

“Fra Martino, campanaro, dormi tu? Dormi tu? Suona le campane, suona le campane. Din, don, dan. Din, don, dan.”

“Are you … ok?”

“Panie Janie, Panie Janie, rano wstań? Rano wstań? Wszystkie dzwony biją, wszystkie dzwony biją. Bim, bam, bom, Bim, bam, bom.“

“Are you sure you’re …”

“Nemuino, nemuino, okinsai? Okinasai? Asano kane ga, natte iruyo. Kin kon kan, kin kon kan.”

“What the …”

“Quare dormis, O Iacobe, etiam nunc? Etiam nunc? Resonat campanae, resonant campanae, din din dan. Din din dan.”

“Ok this is seriously getting weird now. What in the world are you doing to the poor girl?”

“Being an awesome father, that’s what I’m doing,” Stiles said, smiling tiredly up at Scott from where he was sitting next to the incubator, hand stuck through the hole in the glass that allowed him to stroke his tiny daughter’s torso, reassuring her through touch and his voice that she wasn’t alone and would in fact never be alone in the world for as long as he lived.

“Yeah, obviously you’ll be the best daddy _ever_ , like, who’s even questioning that? You should tell me; I’ll beat them up for you! Well … I’ll talk to them first, but if I have to I’ll totally beat them up. I just don’t see why you have to torture those adorably tiny ears with your caterwauling in strange, garbled sounds?”

“I’m stimulating her cognitive development by teaching her the _Are You Sleeping_ lullaby in multiple languages, I thought it was obvious?” Stiles replied and Scott clapped his shoulder, looking apologetic.

“A, you’re absolutely tone-deaf, and B, are you sure you pronounced even half of these words right? Also, was one of them the battle-language of the Barbarians?”

“What, you mean the German one? That’s not Barbarian, which, by the way, is a total misconception that they were an actual tribe, _everyone_ not belonging to the Greek, Roman or Christian empire was considered a Barbarian, it’s not like they had their own special language and members only parties. I’m just singing her the song in all the languages in which she has ancestry.”

“Since when are you French?” Scott asked, raising an eyebrow and Stiles grinned.

“Paternal great-great-grandmother on my father’s side, we think that’s where he gets his unsettling love for snails in garlic sauce,” he replied and Scott shuddered, remembering all too well a traumatizing dinner at the Stilinski residence when they had both been eight and severely grossed out by the food on the table.

“Okay … and the second one?”

“Oh that was Finnish. I’m actually pretty sure I mispronounced all of the words because that language is so impossible to learn that I once saw an entire undergrad class cry hysterically during a grammar exam and I’m not even kidding. Cora says there was a Finish great-grandfather on her dad’s side somewhere, so I had to include it,” he replied, adding, “The German is Derek’s fault, too, hey, did you know his name actually means people-ruler in low German? The original name was Theodoric, which was then shortened to Dederik, who knows why, knowing those old Germanic tribes it was probably super efficient or something. Anyway, the Polish is from my side of the family, obviously, and I’m not quite sure we actually had Italians in the family tree, but the only Italian singer I know is Eros Ramazotti and his voice caresses my skin like velvet, which is just what my Bunny-Baby needs to know how loved she is!”

“That makes sense … I guess. But honestly, since when are you Japanese and how long ago was that?” Scott continued, looking decidedly not convinced and Stiles rolled his eyes, before sheepishly saying, “I just love how melodic they sound when they sing, so sue me.”

“And that last one? The one that sounded like you were trying to curse out a demon?”

“As far as I’m concerned we are all descendants of the Romans and if she ever wants to become a doctor those Latin skills will come in useful,” Stiles replied promptly and Scott sighed, pulling up a chair and sitting down next to him, his expression gentle.

“When was the last time you slept, Stiles?” he asked and Stiles blinked, trying to remember.

“Well, she was born two days ago and I slept for three hours that night before Derek screamed me awake because he was dreaming that Deucalion had just cut her out of his body and I spent the rest of the night holding him to make sure he got some more sleep because he would only stop shaking when I did, soooo … I guess that means I last slept like 40 hours ago?”

“45,” Scott corrected gravely, shaking his head disapprovingly.

“Dude, you need to sleep, ok? Let _us_ watch over the Bunny-Baby for a bit, you’re no good to her if you fall out of this chair in exhaustion. You’re also _really_ no good to her ears while you’re so tired you have no chance in hell of even _trying_ to stay in key, so trust me, you’ll be doing all of us a favor.”

Stiles would have felt offended, probably, if he hadn’t known Scott all his life and if his best friend hadn’t looked like he wasn’t sure whether or not he should hate himself for slamming Stiles’ – admittedly terrible – singing skills.

“But that’s just that Scotty,” he sighed, looking back at the baby and resting his forehead against the cool glass, feeling the tiredness in every bone of his body.

“I can’t sleep. I literally cannot bring myself to do it. Derek sees Deucalion, Kate, and Peter when he closes his eyes but I see Derek, lying in a puddle of blood and writhing in agony … I don’t want to ever see that again.”

“So you’ll never sleep ever again? Dude, you’ll be bringing home a baby in a month, you need to get all the sleep you can right now,” Scott said, squeezing his best friend’s shoulder gently.

“But what if she stops breathing? Like she did yesterday between 12:45 and 12:47. I timed it and let me tell you, two minutes have never seemed so long. Or what if her blood sugar plummets again, or I wake up and she has developed jaundice after all? How am I supposed to sleep when my baby is fighting against all of this even though she is much too young to be fighting against _anything_? And if she absolutely has to fight then it’s my job as her daddy to fight with her, so I really don’t see how I can just go and sleep as if nothing was going on. No, I’ll just stay here and keep singing instead.”

“Caterwauling, not singing, I feel like that distinction is important.”

Scott sighed, shaking his head at him.

“Listen. You need to sleep. We’ll be here and I promise you we’ll wake you the moment it looks like the Bunny-Baby might be taking a turn for the worse. Which she won’t, because she’s clearly kick-ass, but just in case she does, we’ll wake you that very second. Derek’s worrying about you, he says he made at least three awesome puns while he was feeding her earlier and you didn’t respond to a single one of them. Go be with your Baby-Papa, snuggle the shit out of him, maybe try to figure out an actual name for the princess – not that we’re all holding our breath for that or anything – and sleep in the knowledge that there are a bunch of people who’d throw themselves in front of a moving car to protect this little girl. In fact, one of them is looking right at you and another one has been screaming bloody murder for two days because her doctors won’t let her move around as she pleases with her stitches and she claims keeping her from her first niece like that should be filed under cruel and unusual punishment. And don’t even get me started about Erica and Boyd, they went baby-dresses shopping with your dad yesterday afternoon and well, I hope you and Derek like pink, because it’s literally the only color you’ll be seeing for the next five years. Lydia almost had a coronary over gender binaries, it was a rather amusing sight.”

Stiles smiled faintly, rubbing at his eyes and looking at his baby longingly.

“I just wish I could hold her all the time, you know? This is not enough,” he said quietly, gently tapping his finger against her fist and smile crumpling when she tried to grab it in her sleep.

“And you will. Soon. But for now you need sleep. I’ll stay here with her for a bit. I’ll tell her a bunch of embarrassing stories about her daddy and also I need to start my campaign for favorite uncle, so there’s that,” Scott replied softly and Stiles chuckled, finally relenting as he stood up, his joints cracking after sitting for so long.

“Just … make sure you’re touching her, ok? So she knows someone’s there?”

“ _Dude_ ,” Scott muttered, looking at him like he was stupid and shaking his head and Stiles squeezed his shoulder tightly in thanks, turning around one last time to look at his best friend and daughter before he finally managed to convince himself to leave the NICU.

The guard stationed outside nodded at him and it took all Stiles had not to turn around and run straight back in, painfully reminded of the other reason that he had not been able to sleep in two days, the one that Scott had tactfully refrained from mentioning but that had been on everyone’s mind.

With Deucalion and Ennis still on the loose Derek and his baby remained in danger and even though his father himself had arranged for their protection, Stiles was constantly expecting either of the men to show up and finish the job.

The news of the manhunt had been all over every news channel for days and the situation was almost as charged as it had been after Derek’s collapse.

Though even some of the more right-wing politicians had condemned the brutal assault and attempted murder on Derek, Stiles was very well aware that there was still a sizeable part of the population who hailed Deucalion as a hero, elevating him to martyr status, and signing petitions on Kate’s behalf.

Even though he had refrained from reading any of the comments, having something far better to do, he had gotten the gist of it from Malia, who had just barely avoided an assault charge the other day when she had gone off on a protestor in front of the hospital.

The ERC had been working day and night since his daughter had been born, as Kira’s father was convinced that with a large part of the nation in shock over the callous attack _now_ was the time to finally push through some changes in Congress, set things into motion as long as emotions were still running high.

After very careful consideration Derek and Stiles had allowed a teary-eyed Kira to take a picture of their daughter’s tiny hand holding on to Derek’s little finger and the image had appeared everywhere.

Derek, whom Stiles was pretty sure would have been glad to never step in front of a camera again for as long as he lived, had been defensive about using her image at first and in a way, so had Stiles, but he had done PR work long enough now to know that the people needed something that would help make it personal for them, that would drive the realization that their ignorance was affecting real people home to them.

They had compromised on showing only her hand, nothing more, but the size-contrast between Derek’s little finger and her whole entire fist was heartbreaking enough in itself.

“You should look at it this way,” Kira had said after she had taken the picture, one finger softly stroking the baby’s foot while Stiles was attempting to feed her, “She’s barely two days old and she’s already given countless victims of hate-crimes that have never experienced justice a face. Well, a hand, but you know what I mean. That’s an incredible achievement.”

“She shouldn’t have to,” Derek had said quietly, his arm tightening around Stiles’ shoulder as he had looked at their baby and Kira had sighed.

“No. She shouldn’t have to. But with her help we’re taking one step closer to a world in which all carrier-babies will be safe. And that’s at least something.”

As he stared at the picture once again being used as an opening shot for a report on television, Stiles hoped it would turn out to be _everything_.

When he stepped into Derek’s room – also guarded by a deputy – he was pleasantly surprised to see his father.

Derek still couldn’t sit for long periods of time and when he had to leave Stiles in the NICU his father usually went to stay with him, officially to finally get to know the father of his granddaughter but, in Stiles’ opinion, mostly out of his strong paternal instinct to make sure Derek was ok.

“We were just talking about you,” his father smiled when he walked in, smile fading a touch when he took in the dark shadows under Stiles’ red-rimmed eyes.

“Jesus kid, when did you last sleep?”

“I asked him that yesterday, too. He’s not listening,” Derek said, wincing as he moved to the side of the bed to make room for Stiles and Stiles, who no longer felt even remotely weird about getting into bed with his boyfriend right in front of his father, snuggled against him, letting out a yawyn.

“I’m going to, I promise. But before I do, I need to know if there’s been any word on Deucalion and Ennis. Dad?”

Derek tensed against him but he needed to know as well and Stiles stroked his arm comfortingly, gaze fixed on his father.

“Well, it depends on what words you are looking for. The arrest warrant is out and he’s been put on the no-flight list so he shouldn’t be able to leave the country, but of course that’s not a guarantee. He’s anything but stupid, so if he wants to flee he won’t do it through the official channels, and there has been no credit card activity. His phone’s also been turned off and we cannot track his GPS, so as of now our best bet is the media and the good citizens of our country. Ennis is relatively noticeable, so hopefully someone will spot them and inform the authorities right away.”

“Hopefully they’ll inform authorities that aren’t in cohorts with him,” Stiles said bitterly and the Sheriff sighed, looking pained.

“They arrested the dispatcher but Deputy Haigh is still missing and to be honest, I wouldn’t be surprised if he turns up dead in a river somewhere. My friend in the commisoner’s office says there has been a string of reports possibly connecting an association to Deucalion with the murder of seven policemen over the past decade, he seems to trust law enforment officers almost as little as carrier-born lunatics. Frankly, he’d probably kill Ennis, too, if he needed to to survive, and that’s part of the reason why he is so dangerous.”

“How about Kate? And our laywer, Kali? Surely she was in on it, too?”

Derek sounded calm but Stiles could feel him trembling and he tightened his hold on him, feeling his heart clench.

There was a question he wanted to ask, a question he had wanted to ask for three days, but with Derek going out of his mind with worry over their daughter’s condition and he himself not feeling much better, he hadn’t wanted to burden him even more.

His father cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“As far as the lawyer goes, she boarded a plane to Nicaragua hours before the assault on you. We think she wanted to be out of the country for the duration, only to come back after she’d made sure everything went according to plan. That backfired, obviously, so I’m not quite sure we’ll be seeing her again.”

“Why would she risk everything, she stood nothing to gain from all of this?” Stiles muttered, hand idly massaging Derek’s stomach because had noticed him flinching earlier and the Sheriff scratched at his ear, looking even more uncomfortable now.

“She didn’t have anything to gain, but she certainly had something to lose. I wasn’t going to spring this on you, Derek, not with everything that has been going on, but … once you’re recovered we’ll have to ask you to come to the station for an interview. About your doctor.”

Stiles stroked Derek’s skin with more deliberation, soothing, this time, as he could feel the man tense under him, his blood boiling with fury as he remembered the conversation Derek had had with Melissa about Doctor Blake.

With Peter dead Derek had no longer seen a reason to hide the scheme regarding his carrier-status and Melissa had contacted the police right away, who had stormed Jennifer’s practice only to find the woman gone, having obviously left in a hurry.

“It turns out Doctor Blake boarded a plane to Nicaragua as well, only hours after you were admitted to the hospital. We think that Deucalion must have tipped her off and well, given the photographs we found in her office it seems likely that Doctor Blake and your lawyer … well …”

He trailed off, shrugging, and Derek stared at him, looking like he was wondering just how blind he had been for all these years not to notice the intricate web of deceit and danger his uncle had spun around all of them.

“There’s more, isn’t there?”

Stiles looked at his father carefully, eyebrows drawn up, and the Sheriff sighed deeply.

“Yes. It’s classified for now but trust me, if what I heard from the Commissioner earlier today turns out to be the truth it will be all over the news in no time. Turns out our government’s addiction to fingerprint-collecting at airports can be surprisingly useful at times. It’s nothing I can talk to you about right now, so don’t give me that look, but I will say this, Derek. If it’s actually true your uncle’s advice to not confront that woman about the scheme might have been the nicest thing he has ever done for you.”

“So Kali and Jennifer – who seems to be even more dangerous than we all thought – are happily frolicking around Middle America after one did serious physical harm to Derek via medical means and the other was complicent in setting up his murder. Awesome. A-plus for karma. What about Kate though, please don’t tell me she escaped to Nicaragua, as well?”

The Sheriff huffed, looking incredibly angry at the mention of the woman, which Stiles could definitely get behind.

“Kate is safely behind bars and being incredibly uncooperative. Of course that also has to do with the fact that your dear friend Malia broke almost all of her front teeth when she smashed that griddle in her face, so she literally hasn’t been able to talk all that much just yet, but her public defender informs me that she feels she has been set up by Deucalion, hoping that will help her during the trial. I believe it, too, I’m sure once that deputy heard more officers were on their way he made sure Deucalion got the hell out of dodge, but with Derek’s testimony she’ll go away for Peter’s murder at least, possibly for assault, too, the DA has assured me he is trying everything in his power to put her away for as long as possible.”

“What about my family?” Derek asked, gripping Stiles’ hand tightly, and John sighed, looking sympathetic.

“It’s been 16 years Derek. We’re looking, but so far there is nothing that connects her to the fire, no documents, no correspondence, no fingerprints. All we have is a fugitive’s words and her taunts and there’s no way she’ll admit to that now. Combined with Peter’s murder and the assault on you, the fire and subsequent killing of four people will put her on the chair and I’m sure she realizes it.”

He hesitated for a moment before he stepped forward, gripping Derek’s shoulder.

“I know you want justice for your family Derek, believe me, so do I, what your father did for me back when he kept quiet about my carrier-status I will never be able to repay, but without Kate’s confession we’ll never be able to prove it.”

“Maybe you’ll find something Dad,” Stiles offered quietly and his father shrugged.

“Maybe. Just … don’t hold out hope, ok? Speaking of unconfessed crimes …”

He once again trailed off, pressing his lips tightly together and once again looking angry.

“Derek … I know this isn’t going to be easy and we’re speaking off the record now, but this _could_ strengthen the case against Kate and I have to ask. When Malia gave her statement she mentioned something that Kate said to you just as my son, your sister, and that fiery young lady came to your rescue. I know it’ll be difficult to testify about that, heck, testifying about any of this will be difficult, but I just want you to know that based on what Malia overheard – and I’m not assuming anything here, just throwing it out there – the statute of limitations has _not_ expired yet and it very well _could_ put her away even longer. But you have to talk about it.”

Derek closed his eyes, jaw tensing.

“How many more years?” he asked quietly, voice thin, and his hand gripping Stiles’ so tightly now that it almost hurt.

“Ten. Fifteen, if we’re lucky and depending on the actual details. Combined with the other charges it’ll add up to make sure my granddaughter can turn a hundred years old and she’ll never have to worry about Kate jumping her from a dark corner for as long as she lives.”

“I …”

Derek swallowed, looking almost angry at himself as he wiped his hand across his eyes.

“I want to. I’ve been silent for too long, I want to see her behind bars for the rest of her life for what she did to my family, to _me_! But there’s no proof. Even if I’d gone to the police then, if I’d told them she’d … I’m a _man_ and we were in a relationship! I’ve lied so much in the past months, they’ll think I …”

“Stop!”

Stiles sounded strangled, his eyes wide open as he framed Derek’s face, looking at him with desperation.

“Derek, you can’t let that stop you! Whatever she did to you was _wrong_ , so, so wrong and it’s not … you can’t … people have to … by keeping silent you …”

“Stiles!” the Sheriff admonished him, but Derek held up his hand, shaking his head.

“I know what he’s trying to say. I agree. And if it helps to keep her locked up forever I will talk to the police, I just … after. I was doing ok this past year, at least on … on _that_ … but after everything I’m afraid that … talking about it might put me in a bad place and I need all my energy for our daughter and I can’t … I have to be there for her first. But I will talk about it to the police. I want her to pay for what she did to me.”

“Spoken like a true parent and role model for that precious little girl,” the Sheriff said warmly, nodding at Derek proudly.

“I’m proud of you son. I really am. I hope you realize that.”

“I … thank you,” Derek whispered, voice breaking when the Sheriff unceremoniously hugged him, brief but firm, letting go with a clap on his back and suspiciously shiny eyes.

“It’s been a long day and I want to swing by the precinct for another talk with my friend there, make sure I’m up to speed on all of this, jurisdiction be damned. Sleep, boys, you need it.”

He turned towards the door, taking a couple of steps before he paused, looking back with a soft grin.

“Also – not that I’m trying to be pushy or anything – but it would be a nice surprise to come back to the hospital tomorrow and be able to address my beautiful granddaughter by her name. Just a thought.”

He closed the door behind him softly and Stiles chuckled, snuggling against Derek as he interlaced their fingers, limbs feeling heavy with fatigue but mind still very much alert, his heart clenching painfully.

“Derek … do you want to tell me? About what happened?”

Stiles hated that he sounded so small and Derek rested their foreheads together, his eyes moist.

“No. I don’t. But it’s something you have to know about me because if you don’t it’ll … some things … they might not work if I don’t talk to you about this.”

“Then I’ll listen. I can’t promise I won’t want to murder her myself afterwards, but I’ll listen.”

Derek smiled weakly, pressing a soft kiss to Stiles’ lips.

“Ok.”

He exhaled loudly, almost in relief.

“Ok. But I have to tell Cora, too. And I don’t think I can do it twice. At least not right now.”

“I know. I’ll wait. However long it takes you Derek, I’ll wait. And when you’re ready I’ll be there. I always will be. I love you.”

Derek smiled.

“I know. I love you, too.”

They were silent for a while and for a moment Stiles thought Derek had fallen asleep, only to resume his light massage when Derek let out a little hiss.

“Do you want some medication?” he murmured and Derek shook his head, obviously trying to relax under him.

“No, I … it makes it seem more real, you know? That we actually had our baby? I know it sounds weird, but not being able to hold her in my arms whenever I want it’s … it hurts worse than this ever could.”

Stiles kissed his shoulder, feeling almost selfishly glad that he hadn’t been the one to carry her, couldn’t even imagine how painful this entire situation was for Derek, who’d shared that close connection with her for so long, when he had only known about her for a very short time and was barely able to keep it together himself.

“She’ll be ok Derek. You hear me? She’ll be perfect, beautiful, smart, and she’ll be ok. Maybe she won’t be the tallest of girls and we’ll have to deal with a life-crisis during her teenage years when she realizes she can never become a pro Basketball player, but she’ll be ok. She’ll be amazing.”

“I know she will be. She’s our Honey-Bunny,” Derek said quietly and Stiles kissed him again, on the lips this time, not putting any heat into it, just cherishing the man who had given him their perfect little baby and changed his life forever.

“Dad is right though. We can’t call her Honey-Bunny forever.”

“We still have more than 24 hours until we actually _have_ to register her. How about we sleep on it for one more night?”

Derek sounded bone-tired now and Stiles nodded, definitely on board with that plan.

After all, in his current mind-state he was definitely not to be trusted when it came to baby-naming.

 

===============

 

When Derek opened his eyes the next morning the first thing he became aware of was a warm weight against his side, soft fingers curled around his upper arm and stroking softly and he turned around with a smile, expecting to see Stiles and blinking in surprise when Cora grinned right back at him, teary-eyed.

“Hey Papa,” she whispered, and Derek’s eyes flickered to her side automatically, distinctly remembering something about “Stitches” and “Shouldn’t move.”

“Cora! Shouldn’t you be … where’s …”

“Baby-Daddy tip-toed out of here as soon as I came in, said he needs to look at the Bunny-Baby a bit more to figure out names for her. Which I’m all in favor of, by the way, it’s ridiculous that she’s almost four days old and _still_ nameless, but mark my words Derek, after he tried to suggest Dethan and Ethaniel with Nicky, I _better not_ end up with a niece named Stereka or Dilesa, or I’ll sue for custody. I mean it, too, you’ve been warned and so has he!”

She continued to mock-glare at him for a second before her expression crumpled, big tears running down her face as she pressed it against the crook of Derek’s neck, sobbing softly.

Derek rubbed her back, holding her, and after a while she calmed, though she still sniffled on occasion as she stroked Derek’s face.

“I swear to you, if something had happened to you and Honey-Bunny I would have … I couldn’t have …”

“I love you, too, Cora,” Derek said and Cora burst into a fresh bout of tears, looking annoyed with herself for all that display of emotion and almost making Derek smile at the look of righteous indignation on her face.

“You two made a beautiful baby by the way,” she said finally, smiling shakily at him.

“Not that I ever had any doubt, but it’s nice to see my auntie instinct confirmed and all that. Totally called that it was a girl by the way, you gave off a certain vibe.”

“Really?” Derek asked, smiling softly and Cora snorted, shaking her head.

“Nah, I had my bet on a boy. So did Erica, by the way, she’s a little pissed that instead of _her_ choosing all the kinky stuff for a month Boyd gets to do it because he thought it was a girl, but based on what I overheard that one time when I slept at their place, I don’t think she can complain.”

Derek shook his head.

“Should it concern me that I’m not even raising an eyebrow at my friends making sexual bets about my baby’s gender and the fact that we’ve _all_ heard Erica and Boyd go at it at one point in the past three years?”

“We’re all co-dependent and it’s about time things change around here,” Cora concluded, looking at him with a sad smile now.

“Are you ready for that Papa? The family life with Honey-Bunny and Stiles? It’s what you want, right? I mean, not that you can change that now, at least not the part with Honey-Bunny, but you’re happy, right? Stiles is going to make you happy?”

“I’m exhausted Cora. Emotionally and physically and I just really want my baby. But once she can go home with us, when we can finally start putting all of this behind us then yeah … I’m going to be happy. At least I hope I will be.”

“You will. Stiles is a good man. He’s going to be a great father and if you let him he’ll worship the ground you walk on. He does already, so I’m not even halfway concerned.”

“Maybe I should be the one worshipping the ground he walks on? In the interest of mutual benefits and all that?” Derek asked, smiling, and Cora shrugged, muttering, “As long as there’s worship, tongue-related or otherwise,” with a cheeky grin.

“So … _is_ my niece going to get a name at some point? Or will we still be calling her Honey-Bunny when she graduates from college?”

“It’s not like that’s an easy decision to make,” Derek defended himself and Cora gave him a stern look, pursing her lips.

“I’m not going to judge the fact that you had 16 weeks to come up with something and obviously didn’t give it a single thought once, but I’m actually totally judging and I won’t stop until I hear that name,” she said and Derek smiled, getting where she was coming from.

“She’ll have a name by the end of the day, I promise.”

“You better,” Cora teased, falling silent once more as she stroked across Derek’s hair.

“Hey Cora?” he asked, feeling like he didn’t want to know the answer but having to know regardless.

“Did Laura come to see you? After everything I thought that maybe …”

Cora shook her head, relaxed expression disappearing in a flash.

“Not even a call! Nada. I imagine Laura is too busy trying to salvage the last scraps of our parent’s company … not that _that’s_ an excuse for not coming to see your brother who almost died, your niece in the NICU, and your sister who kinda got shot! I’ve tried to stay away from the news, but when the report about Peter’s murder and Kate’s involvement broke, the Internet went completely ballistic. I’m guessing she’s been up to her ears in that PR catastrophe. Our sales are higher than ever, because society is sick and twisted, but I really don’t think Chris and Laura can manage the company on their own, plus I read that we already lost a bunch of really high-profile authors over this. Sales are good now, but in the future, who’ll want to sign with us? Who’ll want to _stay_ with us once they can no longer exploit the drama connected to the company name? They have a lot on their plate business wise and I guess that’s more important than family these days. Good riddance I say, let’s talk about something else.”

Derek reached up to kiss her forehead, hoping that his sister knew family was everything to him; alwas had been and always would be. He wasn’t quite sure if he believed in the afterlife or not but he did hope that his mother wasn’t sitting somewhere and watching this whole mess, certain that it would have broken her heart to see how the people she loved had inflicted pain on each other for months and, in Peter’s case, years.

Talking about Laura had made him tense up again and he winced, digging his palm into his belly and rolling gently.

Cora looked concerned.

“Are you in pain Derek?” she asked and Derek sighed, not sure how to explain the uncomfortable sensation.

“It’s not really pain per se, just cramping. Melissa says I shouldn’t be able to feel it this much, not after a first birth, but because my body has been under so much stress lately she thinks I’m probably feeling it stronger than most post-natal patients. It’s supposed to be really painful with the second child and gets worse with each subsequent pregnancy,” he explained and Cora smiled softly, gently nudging against his shoulder.

“ _Will_ there be a second and third pregnancy?” she asked and Derek gave her an incredulous stare, laughing almost desperately.

“My baby is struggling for every breath she takes in the NICU, I’m not even thinking about taking her home right now, much less getting pregnant and going through all of this again.”

Cora kissed his cheek, nodding in understanding.

“You want to go see her, right?”

“You could come with me?” Derek asked and Cora shook her head, smiling softly.

“I looked my fill before I came over here and you two need privacy as you come up with her name. Also, I really need to make sure I’m back in my own bed before Nurse Harris follows up on his threat to tie me up and spank me. He looks so bland, but that’s one kinky-ass fucker, I’m certain of it.”

“Join the choir,” Derek muttered, smiling at his sister affectionately when she hobbled out of the room, trying for her usual saunter and succeeding only halfway.

Walking was still a bit painful but he no longer needed the wheelchair, the only leftover from the actual attack the bruises on his face that Stiles had traced with shaking fingers every night since.

Even though it took a bit longer than it normally would have he felt surprisingly strong when he entered the NICU, heart growing three sizes at the sight of his boyfriend cradling their daughter against his naked chest, a soft blanket spread over both of them.

“The nurse said body-heat feels super cozy for her right now and apparently she really loves listening to heartbeats, too, the little creeper, so that’s also a plus. She’d probably prefer yours and I’m not going to lie, I’d love a striptease right now, but I can understand if you’re not quite feeling up to that yet.”

Derek chuckled, pulling up a chair and sitting down carefully before he kissed Stiles, hand automatically going to the back of the baby’s soft head, cradling it protectively.

“Has she eaten?” he asked and Stiles nodded proudly, looking down at her with so much warmth it made Derek’s head spin.

“Like a champ! Our girl’s definitely not going to be a picky eater, that’s for sure.”

“Let’s hope that’s what’s going to happen,” Derek smiled softly, tactfully omitting the fact that he had apparently gone through a very-picky-eater phase in his toddler years and driven his mother and father up the wall during almost every meal.

“Whatever’s going to happen, I know one thing. She’s beautiful, Derek. Just like my mom, proving once and for all that carrier-born girls are just as gorgeous as other girls,” Stiles said softly and Derek nodded, in full agreement as he continued to stare at their baby, safely nestled against Stiles’ chest.

For a moment, neither man said anything; then Stiles scratched at his ear with a sheepish expression on his face.

“Okay, so … Cora threatened me with a custody battle if we don’t come up with a good name for her and I got three texts from Dad this morning to remind me to get on that already, so we should probably talk about that. You up for making important life-decisions right now?”

“Definitely,” Derek agreed and Stiles smiled, looking at the baby in contemplation.

“I realize you probably have a name picked out already and it’s probably super badass, so I guess you could …”

“I have no clue,” Derek interrupted him softly and Stiles gaped.

“Seriously? After all this time? _Really_?” he asked and Derek shrugged, blushing a little.

“Well, you know, at first I didn’t know there _was_ a baby, then I spent ten weeks coming up with more and more terrifying scenarios of how my life was going to be ruined, and then I kind of spent the next month or so berating myself for continuing to keep it a secret from you. I guess you could say I was occupied otherwise for the majority of this pregnancy,” he muttered and Stiles sighed deeply.

“I hate that it had to be like that for you. This should have been a happy time,” Stiles said solemnly and Derek turned towards him, regret all over his face as he realized that, even though they loved each other, they would have to work hard at overcoming the elephant in the room, an elephant that, Derek was sure, would really make itself known once things had actually calmed down and they had to deal with the stresses of living with a newborn.

“I wish things would have been different, too,” he whispered and Stiles nodded, sighing once more.

“Yeah. But maybe, if things _would_ have been different, we wouldn’t have this beautiful perfect Honey-Bunny in our arms right now. You could have told me about the pregnancy the moment you knew about it and maybe the next day someone would have accidentally pushed you down the stairs in the subway. Or you could have known about your carrier-status from the beginning and lost the baby in the first trimester. The point is, we don’t know, and well, we might have to work on overcoming this, maybe even get some counseling, which was my dad’s suggestion by the way, though I tend to agree, but I’m not going to hold a grudge against you for this. How could I, when I get to have both you _and_ Honey-Bunny, after thinking that I’d lost you both? Priorities, Derek, and you and our daughter are definitely my number one priority now.”

He rocked the baby softly, leaning his head against Derek’s shoulder.

“We’ll figure it out Derek. I promise you. In the meantime, back to the crucial decision at hand … Honey-Bunny’s real name.”

“Do _you_ have an idea?” Derek asked, looking at him earnestly and Stiles chuckled.

“I could come up with a variety of creative portmanteaus on the spot, Cora didn’t threat me with a lawsuit for nothing, but for real? I don’t know? When I was younger I used to name my cousin’s Barbie dolls Queen Poopsicle and Princess Glitter-Farts, but I don’t see either of those working out for her,” he mused, grinning when Derek snorted.

“Not in a million years,” he said pleasantly and Stiles chuckled again, before studying their daughter carefully.

“After my mother died I thought about naming a girl after her, but that’s a lot to live up to and I want her to be her own little person, you know. Unless of course you want to name her after your mom, I would be ok with that, obviously,” Stiles continued and Derek shook his head.

“No, I see your point. Maybe as her middle name though? Talia Claudia? Or Claudia Talia? Whichever you prefer.”

“Talia Claudia sounds perfect to me,” Stiles said warmly, looking at him with affection and then smiling down at their baby.

“You’re being named after two amazing ladies here, I hope you’re grasping the magnitude of this honor Bunny-Baby,” he whispered, and their daughter smacked her lips in her sleep, which Derek took as acknowledgement.

“As for her first name,” Derek said, looking at Stiles earnestly.

“I know you love editing supernatural novels, so you might prefer something unique and dramatic, but I would like to go with something simple and sweet I think. If that’s ok with you?” he asked and Stiles snorted, looking a little guilty when the baby made a soft noise in her sleep.

“You have a bunch of things to learn about me young Padawan! My own unique and dramatic first name caused me mental anguish all through school, simple and sweet is absolutely ok with me!” he protested, gently nudging Derek’s shoulder.

“No seriously, short and sweet is perfect for the Bunny-Baby. Since, you know, she’ll probably always be really short and sweet … yeah I know, too soon, but I can’t really help it. Anyway, I’m all for meaningful names and our little lady blinked at me earlier, which gave me a pretty good idea of the size of the shotgun I’ll have to polish whenever her future suitors will come knocking, because I’m afraid she has your eyes and that means we’ll have to lock her up in a tower because _everyone_ will be in love with her. So I was wondering, what do you think about Hazel?”

Derek cocked his head, considering.

“I like it. It’s definitely short and sweet, it’s just … I don’t think that’s her name.”

“Yeah, I know,” Stiles said amicably, “Just wanted to take the opportunity to tell you how much I love your eyes.”

“We could name her Whiskey or Amber. After your eyes,” Derek grinned, trying not to blush and chuckling when Stiles shook his head quickly.

“Whiskey? _Whiskey_? My dad _is_ the Sheriff, you understand that, right? He’ll join Cora in the custody battle if we do that. Not that she wouldn’t rock that name and it would be super edgy and … no! Nope, _bad_ Daddy, we’re not doing that! I’m not really feeling Amber for her, either, but … she does look like an A-name baby to me. Don’t you agree?”

“I think you’re right,” Derek said softly, letting his hand glide down the baby’s little back and trying to ignore the pang in his chest over just how much of her he could still cover with his whole hand.

“Annabelle?”

“Well, she _is_ beautiful, but I knew a horrible Anna in High School so I don’t think I can agree with that. Alice? Alicia?”

“I like Alice, but when I think Alice I think blonde little girl in a blue dress falling down the rabbit hole and I hate to break it to you but this child will never be blonde. At least not naturally.”

“You might be right about that,” Stiles chuckled, carefully stroking the black hair that wasn’t covered by a little cap.

Derek hesitated, a new name forming on his tongue that felt right, almost too right, given how little time they had spent on this so far, and Stiles raised his eyebrow questioningly, clearly having caught on to him.

“Derek?” he prompted gently and Derek took a deep breath, smiling shyly.

“Amy. What about Amy?”

“Amy?” Stiles cocked his head, considering.

“I … I like that. I like that a lot, actually. It suits her. It’s also short and sweet, but maybe a little too short for an official name? I mean, don’t get me wrong, there are beautiful 3-letter names out there, but if she ever wants to have a nickname Amy doesn’t give her many options. Maybe we could give her a name that can easily be shortened to Amy?” he asked and Derek pursed his lips, nodding.

“Do you have something in mind?” he asked and Stiles grinned sheepishly.

“Well, kinda? What are your feelings on … Amelia?”

Derek repeated the name, nodding with a soft smile.

“I like it. Amelia Talia Claudia. Amy for short. Unless we should go with Amelie? This way all of her names end in ‘ia’ and maybe that’s overdoing it just a little bit?”

“No, no, Amelia is perfect,” Stiles said quickly, grinning from ear to ear and Derek grinned back, relieved at how right it felt and looking at Amy longingly, really needing to hold her, tell her her name and maybe, while he was at it, apologize that she had had to wait for it for so long.

He felt a bit awkward about stripping off his shirt, aware that, four days post-partum, his midsection looked rather alien, still considerably rounder – more so than he had been expecting, though Melissa had reassured him that was all normal – than he was used to but less firm and more squishy, and he really, _really_ wanted to know why exactly his nipples had to look like dark brown eggs sunny-side up when he couldn’t even feed the baby himself, carriers having lost that particular trait centuries ago, during a time when the gene had almost died out because of the first wave of mass-persecutions during the middle ages.

However, Stiles didn’t seem to mind at all, his gaze a soft caress and full of warmth as he stared at Derek openly, whispering, “So incredible that she was actually in there, that you _made_ her” under his breath as the nurse gently lifted Amy out of Stiles’ arms and placed her on Derek’s bare chest, since both fathers were still too scared to move her around on their own and accidentally pull out her breathing and feeding tube.

“That’s the good stuff, right Amy-Bunny?” Stiles asked gently, tracing a finger along Amy’s cheek when the baby cooed and smiling almost goofily.

“She wiggled around a little when the nurse placed her on my chest, but your hearbeat is definitely the one she prefers. I wonder why,” he said teasingly and Derek closed his eyes to blink away the hormonal tears threatening to make an acquaintance, fighting hard to keep his emotions under control at the knowledge that, unlike the last time his baby had been placed on his chest like this, there wasn’t going to be a doctor who wanted to whisk her away from him, that she was actually here to stay this time, safe and protected in his embrace, just like it was supposed to be.

Stiles kissed him, clearly sensing his turmoil and trying to offer comfort, resting one hand over Derek’s hold on their daughter’s back and sighing contentedly.

“What do you say baby girl? Are you ok with going through life as Amelia Talia Claudia Hale?”

“Stilinski,” Derek corrected gently and Stiles stared at him, completely flabbergasted.

“What?”

“I would like for her to be Amelia Talia Claudia Stilinski … if that’s ok with you?”

“Uhm … Derek, I … not that I’m not flattered or anything, I am, god, I’m definitely flattered, but … _why_? You were the one who carried her, your family is the one with the strong matriarchs; she should be a Hale.”

“Do you really want her to be like my grandmother? Like Laura? With all that anti-carrier hate-legacy attached to her name?”

Derek still didn’t know the entire story, wasn’t quite sure that he ever would, since the police hadn’t been able to find the journal – Deucalion must have taken it with him – which would have also been evidence regarding Kate’s involvement in the fire, but Kate’s taunts, while torturous for his uncle, had been a revelation for him.

He hadn’t found the time yet to explore them further, his concern about his daughter too all-encompassing, but the knowledge that his mother and father had been pro-carrier rights – which the Sheriff had confirmed by finally sharing the true identity of the psychologist who had protected him all those years ago and making Derek wonder if he and Stiles had just always somehow been … _meant to be,_ as cheesy as it sounded – was an enormous weight lifted off his heart, the knowledge that his mother would have loved her little granddaughter with all her heart a source of strength for him during the most challenging hours.

Stiles shook his head, his expression sad.

“She’s never going to be like either of them! We won’t let that happen! But I do want her to be like Talia. And Cora. Two loving, strong Hale women, so I’m sorry but I’m going to insist. She’s going to be Amy Hale.”

“Amelia Talia Claudia Stilinski,” Derek protested softly and Stiles once again shook his head, frowning.

“Just because there were some rotten apples in the family tree that doesn’t mean she can’t restore your family’s good name. Heck, look at her, she could restore any family’s good name, she’s amazing! Amelia Talia Claudia Hale!”

“Amelia Talia Claudia Stilinski-Hale,” Derek countered softly, appreciating Stiles’ words more than the man would ever know but still feeling uncomfortable with only giving her his last name.

“Amelia Talia Claudia Hale-Stilinski, if anything. And we can’t give her three first names _and_ a hyphenated last name, that’s cruel and unusual punishment and she’ll never be able to fit it on her license.”

“Just Stilinski then. Or Stilinski-Hale. I want her to be as kind, courageous, principled, and loving as the men in your family, whether they were Stilinskis by blood or not.”

“It seems we’ve reached an impasse, Derek, because I want her to be as loving and loyal as the Hales who are currently staying in this hospital,” Stiles said softly and Derek sighed, looking down at Amy in resignation.

“Your daddy is stubborn. Sadly, so am I. You might have a first name now, but you’ll never have a last name. We failed you darling girl, I’m sorry.”

“Papa is silly Amy-Bunny, we still have a couple of hours to settle this. Daddy’s going to convince Papa, you’ll see.”

“Amy-Bunny?” Derek repeated softly and Stiles grinned, nodding.

“Technically that translates to beloved Bunny and you have to agree it fits her perfectly.”

“It does,” Derek said amicably, marvelling at his daughter’s little nose and the tiny little moles, which did indeed remind him of a cute little bunny, shifting a little on the chair when there was another cramp in his midsection.

“Hey Derek?” Stiles whispered, his breath tickling Derek’s neck, and Derek turned his head towards him, raising his eyebrow at the downright sappy look in Stiles’ eyes.

“Yeah?” he replied quietly, smiling gratefully when Stiles placed his palm on his belly, gently rubbing the discomfort of the cramp away.  

“I … this is going to sound unbelievably corny, but I kind of hope … and I get that it would totally be mine and my condom-in-wallet-keeping ways’ fault if it was, but I am willing to accept that responsibility … but I really, _really_ hope we conceived her because the condom broke the second time. You know?”

Derek smiled softly, gently rubbing his hand across the baby’s back.

“It wouldn’t matter,” he said softly and Stiles shrugged, smiling sheepishly.

“I know. And it doesn’t matter, not really, but somehow I’d like it better knowing that we made our Amy-Bunny while actually making love, not simply fucking … as fun as that was,” he whispered and Derek chuckled barely audibly.

“In other words, you’d rather tell our daugher she was conceived because Daddy didn’t know you don’t store condoms in wallets and not because Papa was too stupid to check his condom’s expiration dates?” he asked and Stiles grinned tiredly.

“Nah, I’ll say it was because Daddy thinks Papa is really smoking hot,” he decided, smile widening when Derek blushed against his will.

“Is that so?”

“Oh yeah! Besides, I have a twenty-step plan to mortify this child beyond belief by the time she’s a teenager, just like my dad used to do with me. He called it a bonding-experience and well, what can I say, I learned from the best.”

“You’ll be the best daddy,” Derek confirmed, holding his breath when Stiles cupped his chin and kissed him again, unbearably soft.

“You’ll be the best papa,” he said with conviction and while Derek wasn’t quite sure about that, he did know that in the history of the world there had never been a papa who had loved his baby more.

Not that he was in any way biased.

 

================

 

“Have you decided on her last name yet?”

“Oh for the love of … are you _serious_ right now?”

Stiles, who had once again been lying next to Derek on the surprisingly spacious hospital bed, cracked open one eye, blearily staring at his most hated male nurse who was glaring at him from above the bed.

“I would like to get my paperwork done, preferably before the turn of the new millennium, so yes, very serious!” Harris replied and Stiles groaned.

“Look, Nurse …”

“ _Mr_. Harris to you!”

“ _Mr_. Harris, seriously, you really get off on that, don’t you? Anyway, we had a really long day and making a decision on her last name has not been that easy, so can’t we sleep on it for just one more night? Please? No one would have to know.”

Nurse Harris crossed his arms, a picturesque example of a person who was deeply displeased and regretting his career choice.

“I’d know!” he said darkly, as if that knowledge was about the worst thing that had ever happened to him and Stiles groaned, trying to hide his face against Derek, who was very convciningly playing dead possum at the moment and cleary enjoying Stiles’ rodeo with Harris.

“Today?” Harris continued and Stiles tried to burn holes into the smug face of the man in front of him, then realized that his usual death-glare was only approximately 10 percent effective when shot from exhausted, half-asleep eyes.

“One more night?” Stiles tried again, blinking his eyes in what he hoped looked innocent but probably looked like he was on drugs and Harris scoffed, shaking his head grimly.

“You have five more minutes!” Nurse Harris declared in response, striding out of the room and leaving Stiles with a heartfelt urge to issue a formal complaint.

“Derek?” he whispered, stroking Derek’s cheek and Derek stirred, groaning softly as he opened one eye.

“Is he gone?” he slurred and Stiles groaned, flopping down next to him in resignation.

“I can’t believe he’s been pestering us for two hours already! It’s turned into unholy terror at this point, we really have to make a decision, if I have to open my eyes to see that smug face one more time I’ll …”

“Stilinski-Hale,” Derek said, and Stiles sighed, rubbing at his eyes.

They had agreed on hyphenating the name sometime around noon, while the Sheriff had been lightly stroking Amy’s torso through the incubator hole and softly muttered, “Look at it this way Amy-Bunny, at least you’ll never get a ticket because no cop will actually have the patience to spellcheck all of that,” looking both amused and proud that, no matter in which order, his grandbaby would definitely be a Stilinski.

“Hale-Stilinski,” Stiles yawned, and Derek shook his head, rolling on his side with a grunt and placing his hand over Stiles’ heart, looking at him with a soft smile.

“Please Stiles. It would mean a lot to me,” he whispered, gently stroking across Stiles’ chest and Stiles looked at him incredulously.

“Are you … are you tyring to lovingly caress me into agreement right now? Like a dog? That’s not fair.”

“Please, Stiles,” Derek repeated, looking not even a single bit ashamed as he reached up and kissed Stiles’ chin, his lips, his nose, nuzzling against him for a second before capturing his mouth in a soft kiss and Stiles went completely boneless under him, not even aware how much he had craved this contact and almost feeling ashamed at himself for needing it, even though they had so much else on their mind.

“So much,’ Derek repeated and Stiles gave up, figuring that, at the end of the day, the order of their names really didn’t matter and that – if he was honest about it – the entire debate had been more of a distraction-strategy than anything, their soft bickering a welcome reprieve from listening to the doctor worry about Amy’s still too low sugar levels and the fact that she had developed a – so far blessedly mild – case of jaundice in the late afternoon, at which point it had taken the Sheriff and Melissa’s combined patience to coax them out of the NICU, each seasoned parent comforting a distraught father close to tears as they had guided them back to Derek’s room.

Amy was currently sleeping soundly, not caring in the slightest about her slightly yellow color, and Melissa had promised to check in on her every half hour during her night-shift, setting both Derek and Stiles’ minds at ease.

At least a little.

Derek had cried for almost an hour when he had climbed back into bed without their baby being there with him, held by Stiles and Cora, who had once again snuck out of her hospital room in her quest to annoy Harris as much as humanly possible.

When he had finally calmed down Stiles had been utterly exhausted, not only because of the past two hours but also because of the knowledge that they had more than three weeks left to go of the constant emotional rollercoaster.

Amy was worth it and more, there was no doubt about it, but if parenting was always going to be this paralyzing, sometimes hearbreaking, yet life-fulfilling combination of worry, fear, and unconditional love, Stiles needed to send at least twenty apology gift baskets to his dad.

At least twenty, possibly more, especially – among other things – for every single time he had been grounded for sneaking out in his teens and being busted, unnecessarily worrying his father sick for no actual reason (Mario Kart at Scott’s certainly wasn’t a good reason).

Derek kept kissing him, deepening the kiss and nipping at his lip, hand roaming over Stiles’ chest, and Stiles realized that the man needed this, too, the reassurance that there was at least _some_ stability in their life right now, and so he kissed back with everything he had, determined to make Derek forget his worries for at least a few seconds.

“You’ve _gotta_ be kidding me? You’re supposed to be making a decision on that girl’s name, not … _canoodling_!”

Derek’s teeth gently tugged on his lip before he let him go and Stiles felt a deep surge of affection for him when he gave Harris a rather umimpressed smirk, hand slowly trailing down Stiles’ chest and slipping under his shirt, going back up.

“How can I help you _Mr_. Harris?” he asked politely and Harris gaped at them, looking more outraged than Stiles had ever seen him.

“I … the _last name_!” Harris said finally, each word pressed through clenched teeth and when Stiles nodded with a soft smile Derek took a deep breath, sounding proud when he said, “Stilinski-Hale. Her name is Amelia Talia Claudia Stilinski-Hale.”

“Delightful,” Harris choked out, judgmenet pouring out of him in waves and quadrupling when Derek just continued kissing Stiles like there was no tomorrow, smirking against Stiles’ lips when Harris left huffing and puffing and continuing to canoodle the heck out of him.

Yes, Stiles decided, wrapping him up in his arms and pulling him closer, loving Derek was definitely not going to be a hardship.

 

===================

 

When Amy turned one week old Stiles went out to get her a stuffed bunny to celebrate the occasion, a bigger one than the one he had gotten Derek for the baby-shower, since he figured that his tiny baby would need a slightly bigger protector at night than he had actually envisioned.

Not that he was planning to put the monstrosity in a crib next to her, aware of choking hazards, but he thought she would appreciate it later on, the bunny’s plushy arms just perfect enough to have a toddler wrap them around herself when she went to sleep at night.

On his way back to the hospital – and after a quick stop at his apartment to take a shower and stuff a new set of clothes into his backpack, Stiles paid Deaton a visit, handing in his resignation with an apologetic smile.

The _Nemeton_ had been incredibly understanding about the situation, but Stiles had no idea when he would actually be able to work again and with three book release due dates looming on his calendar he realized he could no longer work there, as much as he had enjoyed it.

Deaton look unsurprised, if a bit remorseful, thanking Stiles for his work and dutifully admiring pictures of Amy, his usually expressionless face showing just a hint of fondness.

“I’m sure you’ll find something else soon, Mr. Stilinski,” he said encouragingly when Stiles walked out the door with the small box carrying his office supplies under one arm and the gigantic bunny under the other and Stiles dearly hoped he was right.

Lydia had somehow gotten her law professor to take on Derek and Cora’s case against _Hale_ & _Argent_ pro-bono (“They can still pay him when they actually have their inheritance in their bank accounts, but for now he just loves the attention, it’s really going to put him out on the market!”) and it looked like at least Chris was more than ready to settle, giving up his share of the company to Allison and getting the hell away from the big mess, either paying Derek and Cora out or re-instating them, depending on what the Hale siblings wanted.

Cora had been leading those negotiations so far, sitting cross-legged on her hospital bed and giving Harris the stink-eye everytime the man tried to shoo the visitors in her room away and Stiles, who had been there to support Derek in the two meetings he had felt well enough to attend, was pretty sure that the man was counting the days until there were no more patients with Hale in their last name in the hospital.

It was the one thing he could definitely agree upon with the sadistic nurse.

Lydia’s professor had jumped through a couple of legal hoops and managed to secure a copy of Talia’s will, as well as some letters addressed to them, which had been kept in a safe-deposit box in Kali’s office and which she – thankfully – had either forgotten to take with her during her hasty flight or simply hadn’t cared about.

Or maybe it had been one last jab against Peter, since Talia had outlined their family history in great detail, trying to explain her political opinions to her children and urging them – in the case of something ever happening to them – to show their uncle just how much they loved him, that maybe _they_ could get through to him where she had failed so much in the last years of her life.

Even though Stiles and Malia had wanted to give the Hale siblings their privacy as they read their mother’s last words to them they had somehow all found themselves huddled up on one bed together, Stiles’ arms firmly wrapped around Derek, who who had been holding Cora’s hand tightly, his face pressed against the side of Stiles’ neck, dampening his skin with silent tears as Cora, who had leaned against Malia for support, had read the letters out loud in a broken voice.

Talia Hale had been almost convinced Derek would be a carrier and she had worried about his future, her own family situation having made her all to aware of the hardships he might face, and her words to Derek had been full of encouragement, telling him he was perfect just the way he was and that she was going to do everything in her power to make sure he would have the future he deserved, that she couldn’t wait to see him cradle her grandchildren one day, if that was what he chose to do in life.

Stiles had wondered if she had had a feeling she wouldn’t live to see it, if she had been aware of the danger lurking from the people her brother had associated himself with and by the look on Cora’s face she had been wondering, too, her face pale as she had finished reading her own letter.

They had a meeting with Allison scheduled in a couple of days, a negotiation regarding a possible future for Derek and Cora in the company and also – Allison had been very firm about that – a major overhaul of their policies, almost like a complete rebirth (“I completely understand you have to focus on Amy for now, but please know that I am ready for change and I would love to have you by my side. Just think about it.”).

It would have seemed like a perfect happy ending … a happy ending minus the fact that Kali and Jennifer were still missing in Middle America, the fact that – just like his father had predicted – Deputy Haigh had been found murdered in an alley, not too far from Derek’s loft and suggesting he had been killed that very same day, that there was still no real lead on Ennis and Deucalion, and the fact that there was a big elephant in the room, an elephant that everyone wanted to talk about but no one dared to.

The news that Peter had not been an innocent victim of Deucalion but had, in fact, been instrumental in organizing the attack, had been leaked to the press two days ago and no one had seen Laura since.

Her phone had been turned off and she hadn’t shown up at her apartment in two days and even though Cora and Derek tried to pretend they weren’t worried Stiles could see the fear in their eyes clearly, marveling about the love they still had for their big sister and feeling frustrated about it at the same time, knowing that Laura would never appreciate just how much she didn’t deserve this.

Thankfully, Derek hadn’t let thoughts about Laura distract him from Amy, and now that he was no longer in so much discomfort from the afterpains of the birth and could sit for as long as he wanted he had almost been glued to the incubator, patiently waiting for the moments when the nurses allowed him to cradle their daughter against his chest, thoughts about murderous fugitives, wills, the company, and wayward sisters forgotten whenever they were in the calming presence of their tiny daughter.

When Stiles came back from the _Nemeton_ it was the exact position that he found Derek in, a soft smile on his lips as he looked at their daughter’s tiny fingers gently grasping on to his pinky, a magic trick she had definitely gotten the hang out of in the past days, much to everyone’s awe and delight.

“How’s my favorite girl today?” Stiles asked, sitting down next to Derek and gently cupping her head and Derek chuckled, turning towards him with a gentle expression.

“She’s fine. Just like she was two hours ago. And one and a half hours ago, when you texted me. As well as an hour ago. Not to mention during the last thirty minutes. And during the text exchange we had ten minutes ago.”

Stiles shrugged.

“Well, you gotta make sure of these things,” he declared softly and Derek nodded, exhausted but content.

“Can you even imagine having to worry like this for five?” he whispered, nodding towards the other end of the NICU and Stiles let out a soft breath, shaking his head and wondering – not for the first time – just how in the world Finstock and Greenberg were still standing.

After Nicky and Jonna’s uncomplicated births Stiles had been concerned for the Finstock quintuplets but hadn’t _really_ understood just what their premature birth meant for their parents, and in the hours he and Derek had spent watching over Amy, eyes glued to her chest’s gentle movement and terrified it would just stop all of a sudden, he had definitely had an awakening moment.

The quintuplets had been here for five weeks already, were looking at at least two to four more weeks in the NICU, depending on their individual weight, and even though all of them were mostly out of the woods at this point they were still a little too tiny to be let out into the world of germs.

Stiles had gotten to know his former coach a lot better over sharing one or two horrible coffees in the hospital cafeteria with him and he knew that Derek and Greenberg had bonded as well, both of them knowing what it felt like to see the tiny bodies they had carried inside fighting for their lives and no longer being able to help.

They were scheduled to take two of the boys home in two weeks, but Stiles knew that, as paradoxically as it sounded, they would not get a good night’s sleep until all five babies were home with them, however short that sleep might be.

He would go over there and say hi later, Stiles decided, able to tell his coach was in desperate need of another coffee break even from across the room, but for now he needed to make sure Amy hadn’t forgotten her daddy in the two hours he had been gone, ignoring Derek’s chuckle when he voiced that fear out loud.

An hour later both Derek and Stiles felt ready for a coffee break, as well as a lunch break, and with Amy sleeping safely in the fortress that was the hospital’s NICU both fathers decided to go down to the cafeteria, where, Derek was hopeful, the food would be a little less terrible than the one he had been served in his room up until that point.

“I should go get my robe though,” he said, looking a little uncomfortable as they walked down the hallway slowly and Stiles nodded in agreement, understanding where he was coming from.

No one was going to start anything in the hospital, he was pretty sure, but with his thin, slightly stretched-out shirt Derek still looked pregnant enough for a carrier-phobe to maybe hurl insults at him, and even though Derek could have taken them under normal conditions, Stiles definitely didn’t want him to have to go through that right now, not with their baby still in the NICU.

It was a sad testament to their society but Stiles understood that change didn’t just happen overnight.

“I’ll be right back,” Derek said when they stopped in front of the room and Stiles nodded, pulling out his phone to check for an update from his father and almost dropping it in shock when Derek let out a harsh gasp, his next words stopping him cold.

“ _Laura_? What are you doing here?”

 

================

 

Derek almost didn’t recognize the woman standing in front of him as his sister anymore, his heart pounding wildly in his chest as he took a step backwards.

Laura looked like she hadn’t slept in a week, her face pale and gaunt, cheekbones more pronounced than they had ever been and her hair dirty and unkempt.

She was shaking uncontrollably, her eyes looking almost like those of a rabid dog and Derek held his hands up in defense, as if the gesture could soothe her.

“Derek!”

Stiles had burst into the room, panting, looking as if he was going to step in front of Derek and Derek grabbed his arm to stop him, shaking his head and mouthing, “Get the nurse!” at him.

He was still a little weaker than normally, but now that he no longer had to worry about his baby getting hurt he felt more than capable of being able to defend himself against his sister, especially when said sister looked as if she was going to collapse at any second.

“Laura? What are you doing here?” he repeated, trying to sound calming, and Laura let out a shrill noise, throwing her head back and revealing just how much weight she had lost, her clavicle standing out in a way that made Derek’s heart clench.

“He’s gone, Derek!” she wheezed, voice full of pain and loss, though there was also an undercurrent of helpless fury and Derek nodded, unsure of how to proceed, glad that Stiles, despite his order to get the nurse, hadn’t moved an inch, obviously not planning to leave him with someone who was clearly in the midst of a psychotic breakdown.

“Peter! He’s gone! Everyone’s just … _gone_!”

Laura’s fingers were digging into her arms that she had crossed over her chest, drawing blood, and Derek took a step towards her automatically, throwing Stiles a helpless gaze when the man stopped him, his eyes wide but determined.

“Peter tried to kill me and my baby Laura. That he got killed by the people he had hired to kill me was his own fault!” Derek told her, wincing when Laura let out another shrill laugh, shaking her head wildly.

“He would have never … he never … Peter would have never tried to kill the _baby_!” she got out, eyes widening to a point where Derek thought she was about to have an aneurysm.

“Kate tried to kill my baby, that’s true. But Peter told her to. He had a _choice,_ Laura,” Derek continued, anger bubbling up inside him and momentarily overpowering his concern for his sister, the old bond still too strong to be severed just yet but definitely weakened by everything that had happened.

“He never had a choice! Fucking carriers took his choices away from the _beginning_!”

Laura took a step towards him, eyes flitting over his belly then to his face, her expression pained, revulsed, horrified, and something else entirely, something that Derek was almost too scared to fully decipher.

“What do you mean?” Stiles asked next to him, surreptitiously sliding his phone on which he had been texting back into his pocket and Derek breathed in deeply, understanding his plan to stall Laura until they could get professional help, and not from the maternity ward nurses either, but from the nurses who worked in the psych ward.

At least he hoped that was what Stiles had told Melissa to set in motion.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Laura,” he told her and Laura gripped a strand of her hair, making Derek wince when she actually pulled it out and didn’t even seem to notice.

“He didn’t ask for this! He didn’t ask for _any_ of this! It wasn’t his fault Derek, it wasn’t his fault he was born because Grandpa was a filthy, cheating carrier, he … he tried _so hard_ to overcome it, to fight against it, and …”

“You _knew_?”

Derek felt like he had been punched, disbelief clear in his voice and Laura nodded, glaring at him furiously.

“Of course I knew! They fought about it! Two nights before the house burnt down! They thought I was sleeping but I heard it, I heard everything, and Peter tried to _warn_ her Derek! He tried to warn her that carriers couldn’t be trusted, that their own father couldn’t have been trusted, and Mom wouldn’t listen! Even though she had seen all of it, she still wouldn’t listen and they _died_ because of it! Peter tried to stop it, but _no one listened to him_! He knew better than anyone how dangerous they were, but no one _cared_!”

She was breathing harshly, tears pouring down her face and Derek felt almost faint, wanting to understand what was going on inside her head but feeling almost incapable to do so, when faced with the insanity shining out of Laura’s eyes.

“Grandpa never cared about him Derek! Never! He slept around and got himself knocked up and then he left all the responsibility to Grandma, he never even _tried_ to love Peter! They shouldn’t have children, they aren’t _real fathers_ , they are … he destroyed Peter’s spirit! And then other carriers destroyed the rest of our family!”

“ _Kate_ destroyed our family!” Derek interrupted her, no longer able to listen and this time Laura screamed, like an animal caught in a bear-trap.

“You ungrateful … you … we wouldn’t be standing here today if it hadn’t been for Kate and Peter! Whatever they did to you in that loft, they didn’t have a choice, it was all Deucalion, he must have forced them, he …”

“It was their choice alright!” Stiles barked, looking furious and Laura whirled towards him, her eyes bloodshot now.

“ _You_! You don’t know anything! Kate and Peter were the only ones who were there for us after the fire, the ones who cared for us and made sure we weren’t going to lose the company! They always tried to protect us from carriers and then Derek had to go and be one and everything fell apart and … this is all _your_ fault! If he hadn’t had that baby we’d …”

“But I did have a baby, Laura!” Derek barked harshly, stepping past Stiles and no longer caring about Laura lashing out at him, gripping her arms and forcing her to look at him, his eyes focused on hers.

“I did! Her name is Amelia Talia Claudia, she’s one week old and she’s perfect! She’s in the NICU now, because of Peter, Kate, and Deucalion, but she’s perfect, and whether you like it or not, she’s your niece; she’s your _family_! You can lash out at me all you want, I really don’t care anymore, but you are _not_ going to tell me I should have never had my baby, do you understand me? You don’t say that to me! _Ever_!”

His voice had gotten louder with every word, grip tightening on Laura and when she flinched back from him he felt almost disgusted with himself.

“I don’t know what Peter has done to you Laura, how it was possible for them to brainwash you like this, but my baby is a _good thing_! She’s _everything_ to me now, Laura, and if you cannot accept that then you cannot be here right now!”

He grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him and when she did she looked so broken for a moment that Derek almost thought he had gotten through to her, that his big sister, the one who had held his hand when he had scraped his knee and told him everything would be alright, was still in there somewhere.

“I’m not our grandfather, Laura! I _love_ my baby, more than anything in the world, and I also love you, but if you want to make me choose I _will_ choose my baby! We can fix this, Laura, I don’t know how, but we can, I’m sure of it! Please help me fix it, Laura! I want my daughter to grow up with her entire family!”

“Our family is _gone_ , Derek!” Laura screeched, pushing her fists against his chest and trying to get him to back away and Derek tightened his grip on her arms, refusing to let her go, even though Stiles sounded alarmed when he yelled, “Derek, be careful!”

“Cora is not gone! I’m not gone! Amy is not gone! Damn it Laura, we’re still here! You can’t throw us away because of lies, don’t you understand that?”

“Everyone lied to me, Derek! _Everyone_!” Laura screamed, pummeling her fists against his chest again, but with little strength, the sounds that came out of her almost inhuman and then Stiles’ arms were wrapped around him, pulling him away from Laura, who was being sedated by two trained psych ward nurses, who had finally arrived to end this spectacle.

Derek didn’t even notice Stiles guiding him to the bed, could hardly see anything through the tears in his eyes and then he was sobbing, clinging to Stiles as he wailed out his grief, his realization that, unless a miracle was about to happen, his beloved big sister was truly gone, no trace of the loving, protective girl he had grown up with left in her wild, unseeing eyes.

He cried for a long time and Stiles never stopped holding him.

 

==================

 

The first time Stiles was able to hold Amy without the breathing tube attached to her was one of the single most elating moments in his life and when their little girl hit the five pound milestone, still looking tiny but definitely a little bit chubbier than she had been during the first three weeks, the doctors began talking about sending her home soon, promising Stiles and Derek that if her condition continued to be stable she would be discharged at the six-pound-mark.

It had been a busy, in many ways soul-sucking three weeks and Stiles was beyond ready to take his little family home, close the door behind them and cuddle up in bed with them for three days straight, phone turned off and dead to the world.

Laura had suffered a complete mental breakdown and had been committed to a renowed institution called Eichen House, where she was currently placed on suicide watch, not having uttered a single word ever since the nurses had pulled her away from Derek.

Cora had gone to see her once, looking like someone had died when she had come back and even though Stiles was relieved that Laura was taken care of for the moment and – in time – would maybe even be able to start getting better, now that she was finally getting the professional help she should have gotten 16 years ago, he did feel for Derek and Cora, who, for all intents and purposes, seemed to think they had lost their sister for good this time.

With Laura no longer having any say in the company proceedings, having been declared mentally unfit for the duration, Chris had no longer seen any reason to stay at all, signing his share of the company over to Allison and leaving New York City, presumably to spend a year in France, away from all of this.

Allison had had a long heart-to-heart with her father and they had parted on good terms, with Chris assuring her that he trusted her to do whatever she felt was right with the company and even though Derek was still too focused on their daughter to even think about the business right now, it had been decided that, once Amy was home safe and sound and a decent amount of paternity leave time had passed, Derek would join Cora and Allison as the new CEO triumvirate, working to rebuild the company and give it a whole new image.

Cora had already won back three of their big-name pro-carrier-rights authors, who seemed excited to lend their voice to this ideological rebirth, and Stiles was actually looking forward to going back, having accepted Allison’s invitation to become the head of the new Editing department, after the former head, a man with strong ties to the RMA, had quit on his own account.

They would have to hire a lot of people now, since Stiles’ former boss hadn’t been the only one to quit, but Allison was grateful that that was the case, glad that the rotten apples were falling off the tree voluntarily, since there would have been no possible legal way for her to fire them for their personal beliefs.

Deucalion and Ennis were still missing, but law officials were working with officials in Buenos Aires, where Kali and Jennifer were believed to have been spotted earlier that week and even though Stiles would have slept easier at night if he had known that all four were behind bars and not planning their next attack on Derek, he had to remind himself to be patient, hopeful that, with the media still on their side, the criminals would get caught and brought to justice.

Meanwhile, Kate’s bail had been set to five million dollars and Chris had almost spat in her face when she had demanded he get her out, coldly informing her that he would gladly buy her out of the company but that – sadly  - the sum she was entitled to was not going to cover the bail, leaving the cellblock with a grim expression and a hysterical Kate screaming bloody murder after him.

Authorities were still fruitlessly working to connect her to the Hale fire, but since Derek had given his statement regarding the rape and Kate, when questioned directly, had been inconsistent in her reponses, it was a given that she would have to answer for both Peter’s murder, the attempted murder of Derek and the baby, and the sexual assault during her trial, which was set to take place in two months.

Stiles would have preferred for her to go away sooner, but he was also glad that Derek had a couple of weeks to gather himself before he had to face her, certain that their little girl’s TLC capabilities would be enormously helpful in preparing him for it.

Of course there was also Doctor Morrell, who had worked closely with Derek’s father and had branched out into therapy after his death, and had agreed to meet with Derek weekly, to help him come to terms with everything that had happened to him in the years since his family’s murder.

Stiles was fiercely proud of him for taking that step, aware how hard it was to ignore the stigma still attached to people who needed therapy and loving him all the more for realizing that, in order to be there for his family, he first had to be there for himself.

Stiles, meanwhile, spent a little less time in the hospital these days, busy with preparing his apartment for the arrival of Derek and their baby – Derek had paled at the thought of bringing Amy back to the loft and Stiles had definitely shared the sentiment – and Scott was almost giddy at the thought of having his goddaughter in the apartment, though he had also given Stiles a very sad pair of puppy eyes when they had gone out to look at new places, sad that they were going to end the glorious era of being roommates, but wholeheartedly in favor of Derek and Stiles trying to make this work, trying to be a family who had their own place and their own lives.

There were two apartments that Stiles really liked and that had perfect rooms to turn into a nursery for Amy, but he wanted Derek to make the final choice, which was another reason he could barely wait for Amy to be released from the hospital.

Time once again flew away from him and when it was time to bundle up their baby in her car-seat and take her outside for the first time Stiles was almost nauseous with nerves, convinced that someone was going to jump them outside the hospital and not able to feel calm until they had closed the door to the apartment behind them, Amy still soundly asleep and making adorable little noises when Derek placed her in the crib that Scott, Jackson, Isaac, and Boyd had hauled over from the loft a couple of days ago.

Scott had gone to spend the night at Kira’s, tactfully giving them some space, and when Stiles tiptoed into his room, which currently doubled as nursery, his heart threatened to burst out of his chest with happiness, the sight of Derek and their daughter here, safe, happy, and in his place, almost too much.

“I just want to look at her all day and night,” Derek said quietly when Stiles wrapped his arms around him and Stiles kissed the shell of his ear, nodding in agreement.

“I can’t believe she’s finally home with us,” he agreed, tightening his hold on Derek’s midsection and inhaling his comforting scent.

It had been a little over four weeks since Amy’s birth and Derek was still recovering, his belly still a little swollen but no longer looking pregnant, yet still glowing with that distinct happiness, now more so than ever, that they were finally going to be a family, and Stiles had never wanted him more.

He apparently hadn’t been subtle about making googly-eyes at Derek, either, at least not to Melissa, who had given him a stern lecture on post-partum recovery time before they had left the hospital (“No penetration before the birth canal has fully closed, you know that they are doubly receptive while both canals are still open and unless you want a direct guarantee for baby number two to be born before baby number one turns even one year old, you cannot put your dick where it doesn’t belong for now, you understand me young man?”) and caused him to want to sink into the ground in embarrassment, but he had seen the same look in Derek’s eyes and well, Stiles really didn’t like the idea that he had only had sex twice with the father of his baby, deciding that it was about time to change that.

“I love you,” he whispered in Derek’s ear, hands softly roaming across his chest and belly and Derek leaned back with a sigh, tilting his head so Stiles could gently nip at it.

“I missed you,” he answered, voice full of emotion, and then they were kissing, all tangled up in each other as they stumbled over to Stiles’ bed.

Stiles’ back hit the sheets first and then Derek was all over him, hands exploring and mouth trailing hot kisses over his neck and bare chest – when exactly had they taken off their shirts, he had no idea – and Stiles was so definitely on board with this, only he wasn’t allowed to, Melissa’s words ringing through his head and through the haze of arousal.

“Derek, I want you so much I … _god_ , I want you, but I don’t want to hurt you, I …”

“You won’t,” Derek said matter of factly, pulling down Stiles’ briefs and literally swallowing down Stiles’ protests as he wrapped his lips around his erection, hollowing out his cheeks as he sucked and sending Stiles over the edge almost then and there.

“Fuck! Don’t you dare stop!” Stiles gasped, Melissa’s voice silenced by a cacophony of _want, need, want_ and Derek made a sound in the back of his throat that travelled all the way up Stiles’ nervous system, making him arch his back off the sheets and moaning almost ridiculously loudly as he came, not able to muster up the energy to care that it had been almost pathetically quick.

“ _That_ was long overdue,” Derek commented as he came back up and grinned at Stiles, looking extraordinarily pleased with himself and Stiles chuckled weakly, still panting for air.

“I’d say so,” he commented, looking at the sizeable bulge in Derek’s briefs with a playful grin.

“Your turn?” he asked, licking his lips salaciously and Derek blushed, fidgeting just a little.

“Actually I was hoping I could … uhm … I know that first time we did it like … but I was wondering if maybe I could be the one who …”

“You want to fuck me?” Stiles asked, breathlessly, and Derek nodded, sounding so polite when he said, “Please” that Stiles could barely hold back his laughter, aware that Derek would have probably misunderstood it.

“I’d love that! One condition though, I want to see you!” he said enthusiastically and Derek inhaled sharply, nodding with a smile and licking his lips as he grabbed the lube from Stiles’ hand.

Stiles could definitely get used to this, he decided as Derek prepared him, feeling his body regaining interest about halfway through and Derek was just about to enter him, panting harshly, before he paused, looking up with a very sheepish expression.

“Uhm … condoms?”

Stiles let out a breathless huff of laughter, starting to shake his head then pausing, looking down at his renewed erection with a contemplative expression.

“Well, I was definitely tested twice so _you_ don’t need to. I, on the other hand should probably … uhm … cover up.”

“You really think you’re _that_ much of a stallion that the mere presence of your erection will get me pregnant?” Derek asked, his eyes twinkling, though he accepted the condom Stiles handed to him willing, making a show out of checking the expiration date before he rolled it down Stiles’ shaft and Stiles chuckled, laughter turning into a moan when Derek did breach his entrance.

“With our luck that blowjob you just gave me got you pregnant,” he commented, hissing with pleasure when Derek rubbed against his prostate and Derek stilled inside him, eyes meeting Stiles' and going wide before laughter pearled out of him, caressing Stiles’ skin like a warm sponge and making him feel truly whole.

“We _are_ lucky. Aren’t we?” he asked, smiling, and Stiles surged up to kiss him, wrapping his legs around Derek’s hips and pulling him closer, eyes fluttering shut with pleasure when Derek began to speed up his thrusts, his warm weight covering Stiles, grounding him.

He was definitely getting lucky that night.

In every way that was humanly possible.

 

====================

_1 Month Later_

“You _are_ going to be the runt of the litter, are you?” Stiles asked, kissing the baby’s head where it was peaking out of the sling in which he had been carrying her around, and Derek cleared his throat, hands stilling where he had been preparing dinner and looking at Stiles with a raised eyebrow.

“A _litter_?” he asked, pointedly, and Stiles blushed.

“Uhm … did I say litter? I meant spitter, of course, in fact, our daughter just spat up all over my shirt, why don’t I go and change and …”

“Hold on,” Derek said conversationally, wiping his hands on the kitchen towel before he stepped around the counter and grabbed Stiles’ hips, pulling him closer towards him.

“So … about that _litter_ ,” Derek said, his eyebrows still raised and Stiles chuckled nervously, trying to read Derek’s mood and drawing a blank, the eyebrows giving absolutely nothing away.

“Uhm … well … I told you months ago I would love to have a big family, that hasn’t changed, despite everything. But I’d totally, absolutely, one hundred percent get if you never want to be pregnant ever again and she’ll survive being an only child. I did! So, you know, feel free to close up shop, I’m not going to say anything whatsoever and I won’t … umph.”

Derek rolled his eyes dramatically before leaning forward and capturing Stiles’ mouth, hand carefully placed on Amy’s back and rubbing circles as they continued kissing and Stiles grinned into the kiss, feeling truly happy and content.

“Stiles,” Derek said softly when they broke for air and when Stiles looked at him he smiled hesitantly, eyes shining with nervousness.

“I didn’t … dislike the actual part of being pregnant. I disliked the entire situation. But the situation has changed now and I have a feeling I would absolutely love being pregnant if I …”

“Didn’t have to do it alone?” Stiles finished for him, a sad smile on his face that spoke of a wound that, while having slowly started to heal, would always leave a scar.

“Yeah,” Derek replied quietly and Stiles stroked his fingers across his cheeks, expression wary but hopeful.

“Not that I’m actually thinking about that right now, I mean, we just brought her home and we are barely getting started at figuring out how all of this works but … when she gets older and we discover that we aren’t quite that bad at the whole parenting thing that’s something that you’d want? With me?”

“I would love to have a big family with you,” Stiles answered quickly and he was about to pull Derek into another kiss when his boyfriend’s phone rang, over on the living room table where he had left it earlier during a rather upset crying episode of their hungry baby.

It was the Sheriff’s ringtone and Derek gave him a look of apology as he went to get it, leaving Stiles with a beaming grin on his face over what they had just said to each other.

“We’ll be so happy Amy-Bunny, you’ll see,” he promised the baby, trying not to listen in to what his father had to say to Derek when Derek picked up the phone and inhaling sharply when Derek let out a strangled noise.

“What? Are you sure?"

Derek’s expression was all over the place when Stiles rushed into the living room and he held on to Amy with one hand as he dropped to his knees in front of Derek, trying to figure out what could have possibly gone wrong _now_.

“Alright, I … thank you for telling me I’ll … thank you!"

When Derek dropped the phone back on the coffee table his shoulders were shaking and Stiles was grateful for Amy’s warmth against his chest, the knowledge that his daughter was happy and healthy the only reason he wasn’t freaking out right now.

“Derek? Talk to me! Derek!”

Derek lifted his head, his shoulders still shaking, but instead of the tears Stiles had been expecting he was smiling, shell-shocked, but smiling nevertheless and Stiles let out the breath he hadn’t been aware he had been holding, gripping Derek’s knees tightly.

“What is it? Who was that? What happened?”

“That was your dad,” Derek whispered, smile widening now and before Stiles could react Derek was kissing him, his tears of joy wetting Stiles’ cheeks as he rested their foreheads together, Amy cooing happily between them.

When they broke apart Derek looked not only happy but triumphant, looking lighter than he had in a long time.

“It’s over! Stiles, it’s over! They caught them! All of them!”

“What?”

“They tried to board a plane to Asia in Brazil. Fake passports but there was a human rights lawyer on the plane who recognized them and he called the authorities. They got them Stiles! They got them! They’ll be extradited to the States as soon as possible and there’s going to be a trial and your dad said they found my grandmother’s journal in Deucalion’s possession! They’re going to charge him with the murder of my family, they’ll …”

He broke off, sobbing, and Stiles was grinning so widely it hurt, gripping Derek’s hands tightly.

They were going to be happy and – almost more importantly – his family was going to be safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know how I like to foreshadow? Read the last part of this chapter again and you'll know just what the epilogue, taking place almost 3 years later, is going to be about.   
> Fluff, fluff, much deserved fluff for our boys! 
> 
> Hoping to get this to you by the end of the weekend, so stay tuned!


	22. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At last, it's done! Whew. This ended up being about twice as long as I had originally planned, so kudos to all of you for sticking with it and going along for the ride! 
> 
> Again, I really appreciate the support you have given me through all of this!

**_Epilogue – Almost Three Years Later_ **

“It’s not quite a litter yet, but it is a start! What do you think Amy-Bunny?”

“Doggie!” Amy volunteered happily and Stiles chuckled, having given up on his cat-campaign weeks ago, when Derek had very authentically imitated a cat hacking up a spitball during dinner and Amy had laughed so hard she had accidentally – and much to her fathers’ combined horror – managed to stuff peas up her nose.

Stiles had found absolutely no humor in seeing his freaked out partner try to pull out the peas with tweezers while he had been on the phone with Melissa, but to Amy the whole ordeal had clearly been a riot.

He had tried one last time the day after, and his imitation of a dog chewing up Papa’s shoes had sent their child into such hysterics that she had almost fallen out of her highchair.

Derek had given him a disgruntled glare, both at the scuffmarks on his shoes – which Stiles swore he hadn’t actually planned – and Amy’s short-lived career as Superman and they had settled the matter cat vs. dog like adults later that night (though Stiles maintained that, while completely focused on the tight heat of his partner clenching around him, he would have agreed to adopt a giraffe and Derek had been playing dirty. Very. Deliciously. Dirty.).

Which was why Stiles was currently watching his baby-girl fall head over heels in love with a puppy, who was apparently part Australian Shepherd and part Labrador, had dark black, bushy fur, a rapidly thumping tail, and big soulful eyes that, in combination, definitely put him in the ‘so cute I wanna die’ category.

The puppy was obviously in love with Amy, as well, almost knocking her over in his attempts to lick her face and Amy squealed with happiness, her hazel eyes shining brightly as she wrapped her tiny arms around the puppy’s head.

“What would we have to do to adopt him?” Stiles asked the lady who had shown them around the pound earlier, taking a picture of the dog to show Derek when they got back, no doubt in his mind that he was definitely going to be their dog.

Amy seemed to be in agreement and by the time they got back from the shelter she was almost thrumming with excitement, eyes sparkling and pitch black hair standing up every which way as she pounded into the house, yelling “Papa!” at the top of her lungs.

They had just moved into the house four months ago and Amy was completely in love with the freedom their new place offered, especially the garden, which Stiles had insisted should come with a swing set.

Cora had graciously agreed to give up her share of the property, deciding that if they were going to build a new house on the grounds of the old Hale mansion it should be filled with the laughter of children, which currently weren’t in her and Malia’s future.

Derek and Stiles had thus gotten to work on designing a house, adding in a little homage to both the old mansion and the Stilinski residence, and the end result was so unique, perfect, and theirs, that he couldn’t have been happier.

Commuting was a bit of a pain in the behind, but Stiles would have gladly commuted for hours if it meant that his baby-girl could run around outside without a care in the world, not having to worry about cars, criminals, or whatever other danger could have befallen her in the city.

As Stiles entered the living room he was greeted with one of his favorite sights in the universe, lips stretching into a beaming smile as he watched his daughter snuggle into her father’s chest, her tiny body almost completely hidden by Derek’s muscular arms and only the top of her head peaking out of the embrace.

Derek was lying on the couch, a book half-forgotten on the floor and his head propped up on Stiles’ Batman pillow, his face relaxed and his eyes soft, like he had just woken up from a nap, and for a moment Stiles was just content to watch them, marveling at the calming effect Derek had on their rambunctious little girl.

Sometimes, usually at 5 in the morning when Amy decided that everyone in the house was “sleepy over” and the darkness outside was absolutely no reason not to go out for a fun little swing on the garden swing set, Stiles regretted that his DNA was most likely the culprit of his child’s never-ending energy, and therefore he never put up much protest when Derek cracked one sleep-blinky eye open at him expectantly before burying his head under the pillow to let Stiles deal with whatever adventure Amy was planning.

His father had raised his eyebrow at him about it once, but Stiles maintained that his child simply didn’t need that much sleep and forcing her to lie still when there was such a big world outside for her to explore instead was cruel and unusual punishment.

“Papa, Papa, look at doggie!”

Amy was motioning for Stiles to come over, bouncing up and down excitedly on her father’s chest now and Stiles closed the gap to the couch in three long strides, pulling out his phone with one hand and positioning Amy on his lap with the other as he sat down, saving Derek from having to act as their child’s personal bouncy castle.

“Show Daddy!” Amy chirped and Stiles obligingly held out the picture of the puppy.

“He is a Sheprador, Derek! Half Australian Shepherd, half Labrador, which means we kind of _have_ to take him! I mean, how awesome does Sheprador sound? Like a dinosaur, that’s how! We could call him Rexy!”

“No Rexy! Poopy!” Amy corrected, long eye-lashes fluttering as she blinked up at her daddy – too much time with Erica, there simply was no other way to put it – and Stiles laughed, ruffling her hair fondly.

“How would you like it if Papa and I started calling _you_ Poopy?” he asked and when Amy made a face he grinned, smacking a kiss on her forehead.

“Thought so!”

Derek shook his head fondly, reaching out one hand to tap Amy’s nose and she giggled, flailing on Stiles’ lap.

“Oof! No Daddy-maiming! Tell you what Amy-Bunny, how about you go and find a good place for Rexy to sleep once we bring him home and then you and Papa can decide what Daddy will make for dinner, sound good?”

“Good!” Amy seconded the motion, and when she bounded off Stiles let out a chuckling breath, motioning for Derek to scoot over so he could stretch out as well, the couch just broad enough to fit them both if they spooned together.

Derek rolled on his side and Stiles got in behind him, draping one arm across his waist and tugging at the Batman pillow with his other hand, offering his arm as a pillow for Derek when he mock-sighed over having to surrender the cushion.

“She’s going to find that place in her bedroom and we’ll have to spend weeks explaining to her why the dog can’t sleep in her bed, you realize that, right? Also, we just got _her_ potty-trained,” Derek muttered, tracing his finger across Stiles’ knuckles absentmindedly and Stiles snorted softly, his nose brushing against Derek’s nape.

“The lady at the pound assured me the little bugger is more or less potty-trained. Well, she didn’t really look me in the eye while she said it, but hey, after our recent potty-training success I don’t think we have anything to worry about.”

“At least this one won’t go around proudly showing her potty to all of our guests and destroy the rest of our child-free social life,” Derek said dryly and Stiles snorted again, louder this time.

“ _Come on_ , she did that _once_ and she had all the right in the world to be proud, that was some pretty big accomplishment!” Stiles protested, chuckling when Derek shook his head.

“I can basically hear you smiling, so I am not even believing your protestations right now,” he added, letting out a contented sigh as he snuggled closer to Derek.

“I mean, I’m not going to lie, I wasn’t ready to jump into potty-training again quite so soon, but Rexy is definitely worth it, even if it feels like we have to spend the rest of our lives potty-training cute little things,” he continued, raising an eyebrow when Derek let out a sigh.

“What are you sighing about?” he asked, pressing a soft kiss to Derek’s nape, and Derek sighed louder, though Stiles could see the corners of his mouth stretching into a smile.

“Oh nothing. It’s just … you might be right on the money with that vision,” Derek said softly, and Stiles knew him well enough by now to notice that, underneath the calm, there was a tremor of nervousness in Derek’s voice.

“What vision?” Stiles asked, nudging against Derek’s shoulder lightly, and Derek laid flat on his back, turning his head towards Stiles with a serious expression.

“The vision where we’ll potty-train cute little things forever,” he answered, smiling softly, though his eyes were looking more and more moist by the second.

Stiles blinked.

“We … are you saying that … exactly what _kind_ of cute little things are we talking about here?” he asked slowly, not daring to hope but his heart pounding in his chest as Derek’s smile widened.

Stiles held his breath when Derek placed his palm flat over where Stiles’ hand was still resting on his upper torso, pressing down ever so gently until both of their hands were pushing against his lower abdomen.

“That kind,” he whispered, voice shaking just the tiniest bit and Stiles gasped, his eyes widening.

They had literally just started talking about having a second child in earnest a couple of weeks ago and Stiles simply refused to believe they were _that_ fertile, even though Amy’s conception, having taken place after Derek had been on a highly contested birth control that – for all intents and purposes – could have rendered him infertile forever, seemed to indicate the contrary.

“Oh my god, really? We … but we … _really_? _Already_?”

“Really. I’ve been feeling a bit strange for the past couple of days so I went and saw Melissa while you two were gone,” Derek confirmed, the corners of his eyes crinkling when Stiles let out a joyful sound, scrambling out of his lying position and swinging both legs over Derek’s lap, not quite sitting on him but straddling him nevertheless as he pushed Derek’s shirt just above his navel, eyes trained on the soft skin.

“Hold on a second … we’re having a baby _and_ we’re getting a puppy? At the same time? Are we stupid?” Stiles gasped, though his smile widened even further as he placed both palms on the exposed skin and Derek chuckled, shrugging in resignation.

“I think that’s been pretty well established at this point,” he said gently and when Stiles bent down to kiss his abdomen Derek was certain that – sometimes and unexpectedly – a bit of stupidity led to the best of things.

 

==================

_9 Weeks_

“We aren’t stupid, we’re _idiots_! Dumb, incorrigible idiots!” Derek groaned, voice a bit muffled by the cool porcelain, and to his credit Stiles didn’t say anything, his large hand rubbing circles into Derek’s back without pause.

His partner had taken one good look at Derek in the morning and called in the big guns, which meant that Amy was currently having a girl’s day out with Erica, Cora, and Malia, while Stiles was on Comfort-and-Ginger Tea duty, the latter of which Derek was currently having very dark thoughts towards.

“It helped last time, I don’t know why it isn’t helping now!” he groaned, glaring at Stiles when the younger man muttered, “Well, Melissa did say that every pregnancy is different.”

“I certainly feel as bad as last time,” Derek replied testily, feeling bad for snapping right after when guilt flashed over Stiles’ face.

They didn’t talk about it much, had both agreed that moving forward was impossible if one continued living in the past, but Derek knew how difficult it was for Stiles to realize just how rough that first trimester alone had been for Derek, even though his guilt was irrational based on the circumstances.

Stiles looked guilty now, biting his lips as he helped Derek get up and watching him like a hawk when he shuffled back to their bed and curled up under the sheets.

“I’m really sorry you’re feeling so bad,” he said, wringing his hands nervously and Derek grunted, patting the mattress behind him as he closed his eyes.

Stiles took the invitation, mattress dipping slightly as he curled up behind Derek and rested his hand on his belly, rubbing the protrusion that had become more and more visible in the past week and left no doubt that there was indeed a little baby inside in soothing motions.

Derek wasn’t quite sure how to feel about the fact that he was already almost showing more than many carriers did at the very end of their pregnancy, but Melissa had assured him it was perfectly normal, so he had decided not to give it too much thought for the moment.

According to his doctor’s calculations he was about nine weeks pregnant now and even though they had wanted to keep it a secret a little while longer their second child had put a stop to the secrecy the other day, its existence and the resulting morning sickness leading to a department-meeting minutes document in Erica’s surprisingly neat handwriting that Stiles had framed for each of their offices.

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++

 

**Hale-Stilinski & Argent Department Head-Deputies Board Meeting – June 01**

Meeting called to order by ~~fearless leader~~ **_CEO_** Derek Hale- ~~Stilinski~~  ( _stop messing with my notes, Boyd, they might as well make it official already!_ )

**Members Present:**

Derek Hale ~~-St~~ *

Bobby ‘ ~~Not-So-Vanilla-Cupcake’~~ Finstock ( _Come on, you heard him on the phone the other day, that was some kinky shit, I actually took notes!)_

Cora Hale

Allison Argent-Lahey

Lydia Martin

Jackson Martin

Vernon ~~‘The Body’~~ Boyd

_Seriously, I’m not doing that thing you like tonight if you don’t stop messing with my notes!_

**_: (_ **

 

**Taking Minutes:**

Erica ‘Bodacious Goddess’ Reyes-Boyd

_I see your pen twitch and I’m warning you, you cross out any of that and there’ll be consequences_

**_Me and my ‘twitching pen’ would never, Babe_ **

 

**Members Not Present:**

Stiles Stilinski (home with the sniffles-afflicted Amy-Bunny)

Danny Mahealani (just went on paternity leave – third time in four years, ~~jeesh~~ … _I mean, attaboy Danny!_ )

 

**Approval of Minutes**

\- Motion: approve minutes of 01 May meeting

 

\- Motion carried, minutes accepted without modification

 

\- Boss looking kinda pukey

 

**Business:**

\- New campaign coming up for Halloween

 

\- Motion to strike pumpkin cupcakes from the promotional posters due to lameness

1 opposed, 8 in favor (Cupcake sulking)

Boss looking really pukey now

            _**Babe, he might not want that in here**_

 

\- Outlining of new website design by Derek ~~‘Pukey-Face’~~ Hale ( ** _Babe …_** )

Boss rubbing belly ( ~~formerly flat, now round and cute – recent development~~?) and looking greener by the minute

Boss eyeing trashcan suspiciously, ~~everyone else staring at Boss’ adorable round little tummy~~

**_Erica! Seriously!_ **

            _Oh come on! That was not there last week!  _

_**You’ll never get these minutes approved; I’m calling it now**_

**-** Practical demonstration of Exorcist-themed new novel by dedicated CEO Derek Hale, executed through throwing up green health smoothie in trashcan ( ~~sadly, no revolving head)~~

            _Holy shit, is he pregnant?_

**_I’m pretty sure thinking a carrier is pregnant just because he’s nauseous qualifies as carrier-phobic_ **

_He’s never nauseous, oh my god, I think he’s pregnant!_

            **_By that logic Jackson is pregnant, too, he looks rather green_**

J. Martin stumbles out of the room to go sympathy-puke ( _Shit, maybe he actually is pregnant? They still hook up with Aiden on occasion, did he ever tell you what his result was?)**_

**_Jackson? Pregnant? God help us all if that’s the case_ **

L. ‘Strawberry-Blonde-Goddess’ Martin rolling eyes but going after husband ( _who might or might not be pregnant … what, you never know!)_

 

\- Motion introduced by Cora Hale to postpone meeting until such a time CEO manages to get through one sentence before doubling over to dry-heave in trashcan

Motion unanimously accepted ( ~~people fleeing the room due to barely digested smoothie-stench~~ )

            Cupcake offering to grab ginger-tea from the store

Can’t quite make out pregnant (!!!!!!) CEO’s answer through another bout of vomiting, but believe it was a ‘thank you’

 

\- Motion introduced by Erica Reyes-Boyd to hand out cigars to absent S. Stilinski for knocking up the Boss again

1 opposed (vote disqualified for being mumbled into a trashcan and being delivered with unnecessary vitriol), 3 in favor

 

\- Motion introduced to take nauseous Boss home for some TLC from the Stilinski Stallion by ~~Sexiest Husband of Them All~~   ** _Long-suffering Vernon Boyd who never called Stiles a Stallion and finds that rather disturbing actually_**

\- Meeting Adjourned

* Amendment to include Baby Stilinski II in **Members Present**

 ****** Jackson’s not pregnant ( _I don’t know whether I’m disappointed or massively relieved_ )

**_I’m voting AGAINST approving these minutes._ **

**_Just so you know._ **

+++++++++++++++++++++++

 

Stiles had indeed gotten a chocolate cigar later that night and looked decidedly accomplished.

Thankfully, Derek loved him enough not to feel bitter when Stiles had split the chocolate with their daughter, while Derek, who had been holding on to a bucket and trying to make it through their once-a-week family-movie time without another vomiting-episode, had watched enviously, even though his stomach had churned at the thought of something sweet (which, according to Erica, meant he was carrying a boy and which he himself was also starting to believe, not quite able to put his finger on why this pregnancy felt different than his last otherwise).

The morning sickness was draining, especially since it had been going on for a little over two weeks now, but he constantly reminded himself not to complain or feel sorry for himself, not when he knew how worthwhile it would be in the long run.

He was reminded of it every time Amy flung her little arms around him and rested her head in the crook of his neck, her innocent, unquestioning love a constant motivator for him to be the best he could possibly be.

Derek had no idea how his heart could even survive this feeling times two, but he was more than ready to find out.

As he relaxed into Stiles’ gentle caresses now, Derek couldn’t help but feel beyond lucky that, after everything, this was actually his life – constant nausea or not.

=====================

_14 Weeks_

“You really _do_ carry large, are you hiding an entire lacrosse team in there? Didn’t you like just get out of the first trimester, you might want to tell the kid to pace himself!”

“Cora!” Stiles hissed, alarmed, but Derek shrugged it off with a good-natured grin, having decided that morning that the paternity shirt Erica had brought to work the day before really _did_ make his eyes pop (now that she was aware why her boss needed to size up regularly Erica had turned into a walking-talking pregnancy-fashion magazine, enjoying every second of it and – to Derek’s chagrin – using the company credit card liberally).

The fact that the curve was already so visible had led to a number of amusing situations with their daughter already and Derek would forever rub it in Stiles’ face that he hadn’t been there for the momentous occasion when Amy, her face scrunched up like a serious little professor, had climbed onto his lap, gently poked his belly and asked if he had ‘eated a big burrito’.

Cora, who had been the second witness to the event, had almost peed herself laughing, concluding that she finally knew why she had been sent out for Mexican take-out at all hours of the day when he had been expecting Amy, arguing that the child had always had burritos on the brain, even while in utero.

With her third birthday fast approaching Amy had almost but not quite gotten the concept of pregnancy yet, contrary to Rexy, who, in Derek’s opinion, was definitely not fooled when he settled on Derek’s lap and pushed his wet nose against the curve, snuffling contentedly and letting out little whines as Derek rubbed his belly.

Their puppy was quickly outgrowing his lap – though Derek figured his expanding midsection wasn’t helping – but for now there was almost nothing more comforting to him in the world than having his daughter and puppy snuggling against him during story-time at night, with Amy’s fist firmly planted on his belly and occasionally letting out sleepy giggles when Rexy licked across the back of her hand.

Nothing except Stiles coming up behind him while he was preparing dinner in the kitchen, large hands gliding around his waist and gently cradling the protrusion, peppering soft kisses across Derek’s neck, shoulders, or temple.

Nothing except feeling Stiles snuggle against him at night, hand cupping the soft swell protectively and sighing happily in his sleep.

Nothing except Stiles kissing his belly each morning when Derek left for work, usually following it up with a gentle kiss to his lips – and occasionally a heated one that, on two memorable occasions so far, had led to a very flustered Derek stumbling into the office almost two hours late and a cackling Erica, who’d spent the rest of the day making lewd innuendos that would have put the most seasoned sailor to shame.

The morning sickness had been rough between weeks seven and eleven, lasting even longer than with Amy, but the pregnancy fairy had apparently waved her magic wand over him during week 12, restoring not only his appetite and most of his energy, but also his sex drive.

Stiles had been ecstatic.

That had been two weeks ago and since his first pregnancy had hit so many rough spots Melissa had decreed that he needed ultrasounds more often than the average carrier, which was why they were currently sitting in one of the waiting rooms of the hospital.

Cora had practically begged to accompany them and they were currently waiting for Stiles’ father, who had not so subtly hinted that he wanted to be there as well.

“Are we going to find out the sex today?” Cora asked, grinning up at her brother from the floor where she was currently building a lego house with Amy, and Derek shook his head, nudging against Stiles’ shoulder when the younger man let out a mock-sigh and explained that it was still a bit too early for a conclusive result.

They had not yet reached a conclusion regarding the “Are we going to find out this time or not” argument, but Derek could tell that finding out was really important to Stiles, yet another factor to underline how different this pregnancy was to the first.

He was almost ready to give in, figuring that there had definitely been enough secrecy regarding their little stowaway the first time around.

“Meh,” Amy contributed, tugging at Cora’s arm impatiently to get back to playing and Derek was not surprised when Stiles leaned into his space, having expected his partner’s freak-out since their daughter had, upon hearing they were going to go and see the baby on television (“You try to explain ultrasounds to a toddler, I’m doing my best here!”), firmly declared, “No!” and then proceeded to ignore every single one of Stiles’ increasingly desperate attempts to coax her into excitement.

“Why isn’t she happy about this?”

“Stiles …”

“No Derek, this is serious, she’s going to hate it! No wait, she’s going to hate _us_!”

“Stiles, she’s barely three, I really don’t think that …”

“I don’t want my baby girl to hate me, Derek, we didn’t think this all the way through!”

“… there was any thought involved at all?”

“I resent the implication, I was trying to be very thoughtful if I recall!”

“Oh yes, I remember now. Your attention to detail was very thoughtful indeed, especially when you did that thing with your fing…”

“More than I _ever_ wanted to know!” Cora interrupted their discussion, raising one manicured eyebrow at them while simultaneously keeping Amy from toppling over the tower they had just constructed.

“Maybe we should let her hang out with Nicky and Adalynn, if she sees how fun little siblings can be she’ll be more excited about it. Right? _Right_?”

“The last time we went to see Danny and Ethan Adalynn hit Nicky on the head with a toy and Nicky started crying like the world had come to an end. I don’t think exposing her to a child that just entered the terrible twos and is bossing her 3 and a half year old big brother around like the world’s most adorable tyrant will help what you’re trying to accomplish.”

“Yet she was _so darn cute_ while she did it!” Stiles mused, and Derek, who was on well enough terms with Danny and his husband now to see the humor in an angelic looking child – who was essentially a female version of nicer-than-the-world-deserved-Danny – inflicting unholy terror upon the three men in the house while flashing her largest, dimplest smile, chuckled.

“I’m sure she’ll mellow out once her little brother is born,” Derek offered and Stiles snorted, muttering, “Or it’ll get even worse. Besides, based on what Danny says about the state of his kidney’s these days I’m not quite sure that boy doesn’t take after his big sister. Not quite sure at all. They’ll be an unstoppable force and poor Nicky is going to beg his fathers to send him to boarding school!”

“We could always visit Coach Cupcake and Greenberg again, but I’m still recovering from the last time,” he continued after a moment’s thought and Derek rubbed his belly with a slight grimace, thanking the heavens that even though he and Stiles were apparently pros at making babies on the first try, their fertility paled in comparison to poor Greenberg.

On their quintuplet’s second birthday he had surprised his husband with a positive pregnancy test and an ultrasound picture that suggested there was once again more than one baby headed their way, and the eventual triplet-reveal had caused Cora’s all-time favorite _Hale-Stilinski_ & _Argent_ employee to go into a seven day stress-eating bankruptcy-cupcake binge, though no one had been able to take him seriously, not when he was constantly smiling unless he was chewing on a cupcake.

Robert Antonio Giovanni the Seventh, Robert Bartolo Henry the Eighth (Stiles had _not_ judged them … he hadn’t … much) and Dorabella Susanna Marcellina had been born seven months later, and Derek had _not_ blamed Greenberg one bit when the heavily pregnant carrier, who had gone into labor at the company Christmas party, had yelled out “Make sure you don’t forget to tell them to go _snip-snap_ or I’ll have your balls for breakfast!” as the EMTs had wheeled him out to the waiting ambulance.

His thoughts going back to the present Derek smiled at his partner fondly.

“She’ll figure it out eventually and if her undying love for our puppy is any indication she’ll love our baby just as much,” he assured him and Stiles smiled, bending down to kiss Derek’s stomach once again, gently nosing along the curve.

“You guys are so freakishly adorable it’s almost grossing me out, you know that, right? Absolutely, infuriatingly gross!”

Cora, whose relationship with Malia was strong but so decidedly unromantic that Stiles had once claimed they would probably accidentally get engaged during a screaming match, exclaimed, winking at Amy conspiratorially.

“Gross!” Amy beamed, holding up her little hand excitedly when Cora gently pushed their palms together in a toddler version of a high-five and Derek and Stiles both shook their heads.

“I’ll show you gross!” Stiles declared, reaching up to capture Derek’s lips in the softest of kisses, fingers tracing over the man’s cheekbones as he deepened the kiss.

“He’s already pregnant, son, no need for a repeat performance!”

“Monty!” Amy screeched, Cora and the legos momentarily forgotten as she all but climbed up her grandfather half-way before he could even lift her up and Stiles and Derek broke apart quickly, both of them looking slightly sheepish as they watched Stiles’ father fly Amy through the air.

When Amy had just been learning how to speak she had been struck down by an ear-infection and Derek, who knew his child was developing exceptionally well for her rocky start to life but had at that point not yet mastered the art of calm whenever she so much as sniffled, had stayed up with her all night, rocking her back and forth in his arms while absentmindedly listening to a documentary about Canadian Mounties on television.

He had thought Amy was asleep but his daughter had clearly been listening, as well as connecting the dots between the mounted police and her Sheriff grandfather, leading her to greet John with a disappointed “Monty where horsey?” when he had come to visit a week later.

It had taken the three men almost the entire day to figure out what she meant and by the time the Sheriff had left that evening he had grudgingly resigned himself to the fact that instead of being ‘Grampy’ he was going to be called ‘Monty’ (“Alright, alright, if that’s what the Bunny-Baby wants, just don’t tell anyone it’s after the mounted police force of _Canada_ ”, “Oh, I don’t know Dad, at least if one of them falls off the horse they have access to awesome health care, seems pretty legit to me!”, “Mounted, Stiles. _Mounted_ ”, “I’m not sure I should be talking about _mounting_ with you Dad, no offense”, “… I failed as a parent.”).

“John, how lovely that you could make it!”

Amidst Amy’s delighted “Higher Monty, higher!” squealing no one had heard Melissa come in and when Amy noticed her she squealed even louder, straight into her grandfather’s ear, who grimaced.

“Are you guys ready to see your baby?” Melissa asked, shaking her head with a fond smile when Stiles almost landed on the floor in his attempt to scramble out of his seat.

“Your daddy still has the coordination of his five-year old self, it really is quite the miracle,” Melissa cooed at Amy, lifting her out of John’s arms and hugging her tightly, accepting a couple of sloppy toddler kisses on one cheek while holding out the other cheek for the Sheriff, who complied immediately.

It was a recent development, one that had caused much excitement for Scott and Stiles, and Derek’s heart always swelled when he saw them together, their affection for each other restoring his faith in the universe and giving him hope that good things _did_ sometimes happen to good people.

Melissa’s Amy-assigned title was Memaw and no one had ever questioned it.

“So, have we made progress in explaining the miracle of life to everyone’s favorite little girl?” Melissa asked when they were all settled in the exam room and Derek shook his head with a snort, filling her in on the burrito-confusion.

Stiles grasped his hand as Melissa spread the cool gel on top of Derek’s stomach and when the heartbeat filled the room both fathers let out the breath they had been holding.

Melissa moved the transducer over his skin and Derek watched the screen intently, wondering once more how he had managed to go almost two months without medical confirmation that his baby was healthy, glancing at his tiny but fierce daughter and feeling incredibly grateful that his panic-induced-negligence the first time around had not cost him his beautiful little baby-girl.

“Look Amy, that’s the baby!” Stiles whispered, tone awed as he grasped Derek’s hand tighter and Amy, who was perched on his lap with her thumb stuck in her mouth and her brows furrowed, looked at her father in confusion.

“Baby?” she asked and Stiles nodded, squinting at the grainy image.

“Yes Amy-Bunny, that’s the baby! Look, that’s the head, there’s the little arms, there are the legs, that’s the second head, there’s some more arms and that’s … _holy shit_!”

Stiles gasped, making a high-pitched sound as he sucked in his breath sharply and Derek, who had been watching Amy’s confused facial expressions with amusement, whipped his head towards the screen, eyes widening when he noticed Melissa’s shit-eating grin and barely noticing his daughter’s giggling exclamation of “Shit!”

“As I was just about to say, before dear Stiles here stole my thunder _and_ taught my Amy-Bunny how to swear, it looks like we found the source of the burrito-confusion. Congratulations boys, you are going to have twins!”

“Oh my god, Derek!” Cora gasped, throwing her arms around the Sheriff and all but bouncing off of her seat and the Sheriff patted her back with a bark of startled laughter, his eyes just as wide as Derek’s.

“Is he going to be ok?”

Stiles still looked shell-shocked but his voice was serious and Melissa smiled reassuringly, reaching out to pat Derek’s hand comfortingly.

“Twin pregnancies are always a bit more high-risk, but so far Derek’s as healthy as can be and the babies are growing just as they should be. We’ll continue with the regular ultrasounds, but as far as I’m concerned there is no cause for alarm right now,” she said soothingly, and Stiles let out a breath of relief, grinning from ear to ear.

“Twins, Derek! I put two babies in there! I’m awesome!”

Derek raised his eyebrow but the resignation at his boyfriend’s antics he had obviously been going for was lost in the happy tears collecting in the corners of his eyes and the wide smile, so Stiles just kissed whatever he had been going to say right off his lips, pressing their foreheads together and leaving him feeling absolutely, incredibly, and unequivocally happy.

 

===================

_20 Weeks_

 

“I can no longer see my feet!”

“That’s wonderful my love!”

“The last time that happened I was almost 9 months pregnant with Amy, I’m just at the halfway mark this time, how did this happen so quickly?”

“That’s great my love!”

“I’m going to explode before they are born!”

“You’re so beautiful my love!”

“ … You are not listening to a single word I’m saying, are you?”

“Au contraire, I am listening all right, but as far as I’m concerned you’re Tripple-H-P and nothing you can say will change my opinion.”

“Tripple-H-P?” Derek asked, cocking his head questioningly and Stiles grinned.

“Hot, healthy, happy, and pregnant. Tripple-H-P … _obviously_.”

“Obviously,” Derek retorted, grinning as they stepped off the elevator and headed towards the conference room, where Erica, Cora, and Lydia had decided to host the big gender-reveal party.

Melissa had written down the genders of the babies on a piece of paper and sealed it in an envelope during their last appointment two days ago and even though Derek, now that he had fully committed to learning the babies’ genders, was somewhat going crazy with the burning need to just _know already_ , he was willing to give Stiles this moment.

Stiles had offered to have Melissa tell them in private, just the two of them, but Derek had seen his desire to share that moment with their friends and family, the people who had been nothing but supportive of them when no one in their right mind would have and fiercely protective of Amy ever since she had been born.

In addition, Cora, whom Derek felt he could never repay in this lifetime, loved to throw parties – revealing the genders of the twins in grande style was just as good an excuse as any.

Ten minutes later Stiles was thrumming with excitement next to him as Derek lifted the lid of the first box Cora had – among a sheer enormous amount of food and drinks – put on the conference table, echoing his gasp when a blue balloon popped out of the box.

“A boy!” Stiles exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear as he turned towards Derek, who was grinning widely himself, imagining a perfect, rambunctious, smart little boy with his Daddy’s cheeky grin and a bunny-toothed smile, just like his big sister.

“Oh my gosh, Derek! We’re going to have a _son_!” Stiles grinned, leaning forward to kiss him soundly and when they broke apart Stiles’ eyes were moist, smile still brighter than the sun when he turned towards Amy, who was observing the proceedings from Erica’s arms.

“Did you hear that Amy-Bunny? You’re going to have a little brother!”

Amy frowned, looking confused.

“Bother?” she repeated, and Erica cackled, holding up one hand for Amy to high-five.

“If he takes after his Daddy you bet he’s going to be a little _bother_ at times!” she grinned and Stiles half-huffed, half-laughed.

“I resent the implication! I’m a delight!”

“A delight indeed he was,” the Sheriff commented, looking proud as he zoomed in with his camera to document the occasion.

“Do you want to tell Monty what you’re getting in a couple of months Bunny-Baby?” he asked and Amy took a moment to consider before excitedly exclaiming “Burrito!”, leading everyone in the room to burst into laughter.

“Yep, you’ve got that right Amy-Bunny! It’s a _sausage_ burrito!” Stiles grinned, wincing when Derek slapped the back of his head, his expression partly amused and partly scandalized.

“Stiles, she’s _three_!” he hissed, though it was obvious that he was trying to keep himself from laughing, and Stiles shrugged.

“She’ll figure out the difference as soon as the little man projectile-pees all over us when we try to change his diaper for the first time! I’m just giving her a head-start.”

 “Camera’s still rolling, son, and there’s another baby left to reveal, so get on with it!” the Sheriff interrupted, looking rather unimpressed with the new topic of conversation _._

Stiles laughed, muttering, “As if I’d forget!” as he grabbed the second box and grinned at the camera.

“Baby A is going to be a handsome, perfect little boy! As for Baby B …” Stiles declared, ripping off the lid of the second box with a flourish and letting out a near squeal of excitement when a hot pink balloon nearly smacked him in the face.

“Another little girl! We’re going to have boy-girl twins! There are literally one hundred thousand cute and amazing Halloween costume ideas going through my head right now, god, Derek, I love you!”

Stiles threw his arms around Derek and kissed him again, as well as anyone could kiss while grinning from ear to ear and Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles’ shoulders, holding on for dear life and feeling like the ground had been sucked out from under his feet, all of the happiness he had been feeling just seconds ago being sucked out of him and replaced with cold dread.

Their friends were clapping and laughing but Derek could barely hear them over the rushing sound in his ears and when Stiles pulled back his smile dropped, replaced with alarm as he took in Derek’s wide eyes and pale complexion.

“Derek? What’s wrong?” he asked frantically, hands going to his belly automatically and Derek blinked against the tears rolling down his cheeks, hoping desperately that their friends would think he was crying out of happiness and not because his heart was breaking apart.

“Derek? Talk to me, please,” Stiles whispered, tugging him away from the table and quickly glancing at Cora, who jumped into action right away, loudly declaring it was time for cake and to give the expectant parents a moment of privacy.

Derek could barely see through the tears now, and he didn’t protest when Stiles led them to his office, able to contain the ragging sobs until Stiles had closed the door behind him before he collapsed on the couch, face hidden in his hands as he sobbed in earnest.

“Derek, you’re really scaring me, what’s wrong? Please tell me, what’s wrong?”

Stiles sounded genuinely terrified and Derek tried to speak, tried to assure him that the babies were fine, but the only sound that came out were more sobs, his blood still rushing in his ears.

“Is it the babies? Are you in pain? Should we go get Melissa? Please talk to me?”

Derek took deep breaths, forcing himself to relax and finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he felt calm enough again to speak, placing his hands on Stiles’ hands, which were framing his belly.

“The babies are fine. I … I’m being stupid and hormonal, it’s fi …”

“It’s not _fine_ , Derek! That wasn’t fine and it wasn’t just hormones, either! You were fine until the moment I said “Another little girl,” and I know you didn’t just turn into a daughter-hater, so there must be another reason why you just fell apart on me and sounded like someone was tearing your heart out of your chest! Talk to me, please! I love you, but I can’t read your mind.”

Derek gathered himself, gripping Stiles’ hands tightly as he tried to put his fear into words.

“What … what if it’ll be just like … what if … Stiles, what if history repeats itself? I can’t go through this with our children, I can’t …”

“What are you talking about?” Stiles asked, never breaking their eye contact, and Derek took a deep breath, his voice brittle when he spoke again.

“Two girls and a boy. That’s just like … I can’t …”

“Are you … oh my god, Derek!”

Stiles’ expression was part incredulous and part compassionate, and when he spoke next his voice was gentle, soothing.

“Listen to me Derek. Amy-Bunny is never going to behave like Laura! Never! We won’t let her grow up to be like that.”

“My parents didn’t let Laura grow up to be like that either! And she still turned out that way. She’s been out of that clinic for two years now, Stiles. _Two years_! And still nothing! If not even professional help could give me my sister back, how are we supposed to shield Amy from all the hate in our society? How are we supposed to prevent the same thing from happening again?”

Stiles shook his head as he cradled Derek’s face gently.

“Our daughter is the kindest, most loving person I know. She might currently think our babies are actually puppies, but as you yourself pointed out a couple of weeks ago, if she only loves her brother and sister half as much as she loves our puppy, those children will be the most loved babies on the planet. We’re going to be ok, Derek. I promise you that. History is not going to repeat itself! Not this time!”

“You _can’t_ promise me that,” Derek whispered, feeling exhausted now that the crying had stopped and Stiles sighed, kissing him softly and resting their foreheads together.

“No. I can’t. But I can promise you that I’ll try. And, as you well know, I’m damn good at trying.”

Derek chuckled, accepting Stiles’ hand when he pulled him up and allowing himself to be wrapped up in the slightly shorter man’s arms when he was standing.

They were quiet for a moment and finally Stiles leaned back, fixing Derek with a soft smile.

“We should get back to our party. They’ll be worried. In fact, I’m actually surprised Erica didn’t barge in here already,” he mused and Derek nodded, exhaling softly.

He was about to tell Stiles he loved him when there was a sudden thump inside of him, followed by a second, a little softer but nevertheless unmistakable.

“Stiles!” he whispered, pushing his hands against the spot in wonderment and Stiles’ eyes widened as he dropped to his knees in front of Derek, pushing up his shirt eagerly as he rested the side of his head on his boyfriend’s skin.

“I don’t think you can feel it yet,” Derek said apologetically and Stiles shrugged as if to say it didn’t matter, looking up at him through his thick eyelashes as he kissed the stretched skin.

“I think our son and daughter are trying to tell you they agree with Daddy and that it’ll all be ok,” he said softly and even though he was still feeling shaken Derek couldn’t help but believe him.

The alternative simply wasn’t an option.

 

=================

_30 Weeks_

The first time Amy had felt the babies move his daughter had been curled up against him during story time, sitting on his lap facing him and draped over his stomach, which she had started to use as a headrest, even though Derek doubted it was all that comfortable.

He had been 23 weeks pregnant at the time and Amy, who had been almost asleep, had jerked away from him as if she had been burned, staring at his belly in almost horrified fascination.

“Papa! You hit me!” she had exclaimed and Derek, who had actually winced at the unusually strong kick, had shaken his head fondly, taking Amy’s hand and putting it back against the spot, explaining to her that it was just her brother and sister saying ‘hello’.

Amy had been skeptical right until the moment Stiles, who had just gotten back from a walk with Rexy, had dropped on his knees in front of the couch and placed his hands against Derek’s stomach with a dopey smile, his enthusiasm over finally being able to feel the babies through his boyfriend’s skin apparently convincing enough for Amy, who had been handing out rights to touch her Papa’s belly like candy ever since.

“Say hi to my brother and sister, too!” had become her new greeting phrase in the past couple of weeks whenever someone told her ‘hello’, and even though Derek and Stiles had tried to explain to her that it was fine for her grandparents, aunts, and uncles to say hi to the babies, but maybe not appropriate to encourage strangers in the subway, they had yet to get through to her.

As far as Amy was concerned, not saying hi to the babies when every single kick she could feel or see through her Papa’s shirt was them trying to tell the world ‘hello’ was very rude, and she was having a hard time understanding the difference between respecting people’s privacy and being impolite.

For the most part, the strangers who had smiled at her and then found their hands suddenly being grabbed by tiny but surprisingly strong fingers and pressed against Derek’s stomach had been good sports about it, easily accepting a flustered Derek’s explanation that his child was a social butterfly who had yet to understand that not everybody was friendly (“I’m not letting this child out of my sight until she understands the world is evil, I’m telling you now!” Stiles had said on more than one occasion, and Derek definitely shared his concern about their kid’s complete lack of shyness).

There had been three tense situations, however, and even though neither the two men, nor the older woman who had found themselves saying ‘hi’ to the babies against their will had _said_ anything – their carrier-phobic attitudes obviously held in check by their unwillingness to verbally harass Derek in front of his genuinely excited three-year old – Derek had felt their disgust clearly, a painful reminder that even though there had been quite significant progress regarding carrier-rights in the past two years, they still had a long way to go as society as a whole.

Neither he nor Stiles were quite ready to have to explain carrier-phobia to their child yet and Derek hoped it would stay that way for a while longer, already dreading the pain in his daughter’s eyes when she would one day realize that not everyone loved her family and that there were people out there who wished she had never existed.

For now, however, Amy continued to be a healthy, happy, increasingly excited big-sister-to-be and she would often demand that Derek cuddle with her before bedtime, her ear pressed against his belly as she listened to her siblings telling her about their day and whispering, “It’s a secret, Papa!” when Derek asked her what the babies were saying.

She continued to be fascinated with the steady growth of his abdomen, and Derek dearly regretted not having security cameras installed in the living room when the Sheriff and Melissa came to visit one day and Amy greeted them with a pillow stuffed under her shirt – and sticking out of her collar and at the sides because she had not quite managed to fit it all under the fabric – proudly exclaiming that she was having puppies, too.

Melissa had started laughing and Stiles’ father had looked almost traumatized, seemingly torn between amusement and a desperate urge to give Amy ‘the talk’  - “Both of her fathers obviously would have needed multiple talks, I’m just thinking ahead! What? Of course I’m happy they were dumb, but that doesn’t mean I want the Bunny-Baby to make me a great-grandpa just yet!” – and going for resigned amusement when Stiles had unceremoniously stuffed a pillow under his shirt as well and then proceeded to stay like that for the entire rest of the visit, claiming ‘solidarity’ with Derek when Amy had taken her pillow out half an hour in because it had been “too difficult to play, Daddy!”

“Don’t I know it,” Stiles had whispered mournfully, ignoring his father’s groan and Melissa’s soft chuckle and Derek had kissed his knuckles, also mourning the temporary loss of their sexy-times but simply no longer feeling the energy or the flexibility to make it happen, now that he was a little over 30 weeks pregnant.

Their babies were growing well, he was doing good despite the usual aches and discomforts and all in all Derek would have taken heartburn, joint paint, frequent back aches, and the occasional accidental bladder dysfunction after a particularly well-aimed kick by his babies over the horror that had been his second and third trimester with Amy any day.

Not that he was absolutely care-free this time, knowing that twins tended to come early and terrified of having to spend time in the NICU again, even though with Melissa’s frequent assurances that he and the babies were doing good he was almost willing to accept Stiles’ whispered, “It’s all going to be ok,” when they went to sleep at night, though Derek sometimes wasn’t sure if he was referring to their babies coming early or the bigger picture.

He knew he was doing his daughter an injustice by even worrying about it, knew that the likelihood she would turn on her siblings like Laura had turned on him was slim given the environment she was growing up in, but in his darkest moments he found himself praying that his baby-boy wouldn’t be a carrier, that there would be no chance for history to repeat itself.

Derek felt ashamed of these thoughts, especially if his babies kicked right after to remind him of how blessed he actually was, but there were moments when he just couldn’t help them, especially if the news were talking about anti-carrier protests or another assault.

He had spoken to many carriers ever since he had become involved with the ERC after Amy’s birth and while most of them were proud of who they were, regardless of whether or not they had given birth, there were also those who, if they had been given the choice, wouldn’t have chosen to be a carrier, their faces grim when they explained that it wasn’t as if they were ashamed of themselves, but that they felt no one would choose being hated by so many people simply for who they were on purpose.

It was a sad testament to the state of their society that anybody would even see the need to choose to be someone different from who he was and Derek worried for his unborn baby-boy, hoping that, if he was be a carrier, he would not have to deal with what so many carriers before him had gone through.

“And he won’t. That’s what we’re working towards!”

Derek wanted to believe Stiles; he wanted to believe him badly.

He just … couldn’t help but worry.

 

====================

 

_38 Weeks_

Derek’s family had always exchanged gifts on Christmas Eve, a left-over tradition of their Northern European ancestors, and at almost three and a half years old his daughter was finally reaching an age where she could actually understand and participate in what was going on, which was why Derek was determined to make this a special evening for her.

Being 38 weeks pregnant with twins and feeling like he was about to explode, being unable to get up without help, and suffering from a backache from hell simply had to take a back seat to the joy in Amy’s eyes, which Derek was currently marveling at.

It was five in the afternoon and Stiles was bustling around in the kitchen, bossing around Melissa, Kira, Scott, Cora, and Malia, who were spending the evening with them, while Derek and the Sheriff were watching Amy sit in front of the tree, the latter because Stiles had not trusted his father not to eat half of the cookie batter while no one was looking and Derek because Stiles had given him the mother of all evil eyes at even the suggestion that he could help.

Ever since the False-Alarm Incident of Week 36, which, despite Melissa’s assurances that both babies were bigger now than Amy had been when she had been born at that time, had been a very stressful time for all involved and brought back some painful memories, Stiles had taken the overprotectiveness to unprecedented levels and Derek was essentially no longer allowed to do anything other than “eat, sleep, and grow our babies.”

Derek would have protested against the ridiculousness of it, especially since Melissa had not even seen the need for him to be put on bed rest, but he definitely did not want to have to go through spending days and nights in the NICU again, which was why he had spent the last two weeks doing the bare minimum of humanly possible.

Of course that meant that Stiles, juggling his job, doing all the Christmas shopping on his own, and playing entertainer for their daughter, who, Derek was sure, was slowly but surely realizing that her time of having everyone’s undivided attention was coming to an end and had been clinging to both of them lately, was currently running himself a bit ragged and Derek had tried his best to worry Stiles as little as he possibly could.

Unfortunately, Stiles currently worried about everything from the Indian take-out giving him debilitating heartburn to the lukewarm bathwater causing him to go into labor, so it had not been an easy task.

Thankfully, their daughter was obviously part bear, because ever since it had gotten colder she had required more sleep and Stiles and Derek had spent long evenings catching up on movies they couldn’t watch with Amy around, either cuddled against each other on the couch with Stiles’ arms wrapped around Derek or Derek’s feet resting on Stiles’ lap as he had kneaded them, occasionally stopping to take a sip of his wine, shaking his head fondly at Derek’s longing expression and mouthing “Not much longer.”

As Derek watched his daughter’s wide eyes as she stared at the ornaments and the lights and – Derek was proud to note – only tried to sneak glances at the wrapped presents under the tree every other minute instead of constantly, he was almost certain that they were only days away from adding their babies to the family now.

Before the fire Christmas had always been one of the fanciest evenings in his house and there was a part of him that felt decidedly embarrassed at having to wear an XXL long-sleeve shirt declaring his love for the Green Bay Packers, which Stiles had brought back from a business trip to Milwaukee as a joke two years ago and which was currently the only piece of clothing Derek owned that didn’t make him feel like he was a sausage stuffed into a too tight casing.

His stomach had dropped the other week and even Melissa had taken a double take when she had walked through the door earlier, covering her surprise with a gentle smile and shaking her head at Cora, who had walked in right after and reacted less subtly.

Derek grimaced, rubbing at his back with a frown.

Apart from the frequent wardrobe malfunctions he was currently experiencing on a day-to-day basis, he wouldn’t have minded the belly all that much, especially since he knew its circumference was actually due to the most definitely average-sized twin babies that were currently using him as a hotel this time and not because of the uterus’ position, but the back pain was particularly bad today and he was definitely ready for the abused muscles to stop hurting and interfere with his Christmas spirit.

“You ok son?”

The Sheriff was watching him with a frown and Derek sighed, not surprised that his quasi-father-in-law had noticed his discomfort.

“What? Yes, of course. I’m fine,” he answered and the Sheriff cocked his head, looking skeptical.

“Are you sure? It’s just that I noticed you grimacing and rubbing your back just now. Like you did fifteen minutes ago. And the fifteen minutes before that.”

Derek raised his eyebrows, letting out a little involuntarily groan when his back gave out another angry little twinge and the Sheriff narrowed his eyes, leaning forward in obvious concern.

“Are the Wonder Twins going to join us for Christmas after all?” he whispered and Derek shook his head quickly, wincing once more.

“Stiles gave them a very motivational pep-talk about staying put and making sure their big sister gets to have both Papa and Daddy for Christmas this morning. We’re good,” he replied and the Sheriff shook his head with a soft snort, looking at Amy with a fond smile.

“I’m sure the Bunny-Baby wouldn’t mind sharing. When we celebrated “Bring your Granddaughter to Work”-Day last month she told everyone at the station that she absolutely cannot wait to play with her puppies, it was very endearing.”

Derek chuckled, still skeptical that “Bring Your Granddaughter to Work”-Day was an actual holiday in the Beacon Hills’ Sheriff’s Department but definitely not complaining about Stiles’ father frequently enabling them to have a childfree day just to themselves.

“Maybe _I_ don’t want to share her just yet,” he mused softly, holding open his arms when Amy, who had finally gotten tired of staring at the tree without being allowed to open presents, climbed onto the couch and snuggled against him, her cheek and ear pressed against his side as she once again pretended to listen to a secret conversation.

“You guys want to open presents and then eat, or the other way around?”

Cora leaned out of the kitchen, grinning, and Derek snorted, ruffling Amy’s hair when his daughter’s head shot up and she looked at her aunt as if even the idea to do it the other way around was a complete betrayal.

“I think we have waited long enough for the presents, haven’t we?” he mused and Cora chuckled, nodding in agreement as she pulled out the hat that – Derek was pretty sure, even though the knowledge pained him – belonged to his little sister’s naughty elf costume that Malia had given her for their first Christmas together.

“No, you stay with Papa Amy-Bunny, Cora the Awesome Elf will handle the presents,” she instructed her niece when Amy looked like she wanted to join her under the tree again and even though she looked just a little pouty Amy obliged, pressing her face against Derek’s side again to excitedly tell the babies what was going on.

“Don’t get them too excited or they’ll want to join us right now and Papa can’t celebrate Christmas with us!”

Derek leaned his head back, only to come face to face with a beaming Stiles, who was hovering over the couch and watching their daughter with fond amusement.

“Don’t scare her!” Derek whispered, and Stiles looked contrite for all of one second before he bent over and kissed Derek Spiderman-style, ruffling Amy’s head with one hand and placing the other on Derek’s belly.

“I couldn’t think of a less scarier thing in the entire world,” he whispered when they broke apart and Derek grinned, back pain momentarily forgotten as he took in the contentment in the younger man’s eyes.

Cora the Awesome Elf spent the next thirty minutes handing out presents to everyone, including Rexy, who seemed to have forgotten he was not a cat but a dog and was having the time of his life with the gift boxes.

It would have been perfect, had Derek’s back actually decided to cooperate.

As it was, he was starting to feel extremely uncomfortable now, even without sensing the weight of the Sheriff _and_ Melissa’s gaze on him, the former of whom kept looking at his watch and mouthed “Ten,” when Amy opened her last present and the latter looking mildly concerned.

There was a little tap against his arm and when Derek turned to his daughter Amy was looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and concern, her little palm rubbing against his stomach just like she had seen her daddy do so many times in the past months.

“Tummy ache, Papa?” she asked, and Derek stilled his hand, noticing abruptly that he must have been trying to massage away at the tension in his abdomen for a while now.

“No Bunny-Baby, I’m fine. Your brother and sister are just a little heavy,” he explained, not surprised when he could feel Stiles’ hand digging into his lower back, appreciating his boyfriend’s efforts to alleviate his discomfort.

“Are you sure Derek? You’re looking a little pale,” Stiles whispered, looking concerned now, too, and Derek nodded, definitely determined not to spoil the highlight of the gift exchange.

Scott was giving him a concerned look as well, and Derek nodded at him, trying to communicate silently that he was fine and that Scott should continue with the plan he and Stiles had been hatching for months now.

Scott took a deep breath, turning towards Kira with a serious expression.

“Kira,” he began, sounding a little choked up already and smiling like a lunatic.

“When I drove your parents to the airport for their Christmas cruise I had a very important question to ask them and now that I know the answer I …”

“Will you marry me Scott McCall?”

Kira slapped her hand over her mouth, flushing an embarrassed deep red and Scott gasped, looking confused.

“What? But …”

“I asked your mom for your hand in marriage two weeks ago and she said yes and I know my parents _definitely_ said yes because I’ve been dying to say yes ever since we met, so what I’m trying to say is …”

“Yes!”

Scott jumped up from where he had been kneeling on the floor and twirled Kira around, almost colliding with the Christmas tree and beaming like the sun when Melissa threw her arms around both of them and smacked congratulatory kisses on their cheeks.

Stiles buried his face in Derek’s shoulder, sighing in resignation.

“I spent _hours_ rehearsing the entire speech with him! Hours, Derek! He got so good in the end that _I_ almost wanted to marry him. This was the most anticlimactic proposal I have ever witnessed in my entire life!”

Derek let out his breath slowly, inhaling deeply again and trying to breath the pain away as best as he could, gathering himself and gripping Stiles’ hand tightly before turning towards him, aware that his smile was perhaps more of a grimace.

“If you were hoping for a more climactic event tonight I think I can make it up to you. It’s time.”

Stiles lifted his head from Derek’s shoulder, frowning at him for a moment and Derek, who after more than three years together, could almost recite Stiles’ heartbroken monologue about no one ever saying “It’s time” with the appropriate dramatic flair anymore every time they watched a treacherous “lying movies who lie” birth-scene on TV, raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

“Stiles. _It’s time_!” he repeated and Stiles’ eyes flew wide open, his startled squwak stilling all the activity in the room.

“ _What_? But you said you were fine like ten minutes ago!”

“I did,” Derek agreed, wincing when he could feel his abdomen contract underneath his fingers and shifting uncomfortably in the quickly growing wet-spot underneath him.

“But that was _before_ my water broke just now.”

“Water broke? Did you break a glass, too and make a mess, Papa? You have to go into time-out if you did!”

Amy, who had gotten into big trouble two days ago for breaking a Stilinski’ family heirloom glass, looked alarmed and Derek turned towards her, trying his best to hide the pain from his baby-girl.

“Yes Amy, Papa has to go into time-out now. But when he comes back he’s going to bring your brother and sister with him, does that sound like a good idea?”

Granted, comparing time-out to labor was a little too original sin for Derek’s taste, but it was effective enough to explain to his three-year-old why she would have to attend Christmas dinner without her fathers and grandmother.

“The Puppies!” Amy chirped, hopping up and down on the couch excitedly, her expression sobering when Derek couldn’t quite stifle a whimper caused by the worst surge of pain yet.

“Don’t be scared Papa, it’s going to be ok! Time-out is not at all bad!” she soothed him, looking a little confused when Stiles scoped her up in his arms and hugged her tightly in response, whispering, “I’m proud of you, I love you so much Bunny-Baby!” before handing her over to the Sheriff’s arms.

As Stiles led him out to the car, followed by Melissa, Derek certainly hoped his oldest would be right.

 

==================

 

Derek had vague memories of giving birth to Amy at best, the only one that really stood out those first one or two minutes with her, before they had taken her away from him.

He had been in shock, she had been tiny, and the birth canal had been open for weeks, so even though he could remember that there had been pain it had just all gone too quickly for him to fully register what had been going on with his body at the time.

Giving birth to his twins was an altogether different experience, and not just because there were two this time.

They had gotten to the hospital around 6 in the evening and after an ultrasound to check on the position of the babies Melissa had allowed him to try a natural birth first, which was why he was currently trying to push out something that was supposedly his baby boy’s head but actually felt like a soccer ball.

Melissa kept assuring him that it was “going very well Sweetie,” but Derek didn’t believe a single word of it, not sure he had ever been in so much pain in his entire life.

“You know, when Danny got to the pushing stage – and I mean the real, honest-to-god let’s go have this baby now pushing stage – he threatened to cut off not only Ethan’s balls but also mine and Scott’s in between, complete with descriptions of the knives he was going to use. I think mine was a Samurai sword and for Ethan he wanted to use a blunt knife. When Scott protested that it wasn’t our fault he decided that he was just going to do the world and all of our future sexual partners a huge favor and still he somehow sounded very agreeable and polite while he said it. To this day nothing has ever quite scared me as much as angelic Danny Mahealani outlining how he’s going to mutilate me with a Samurai sword while flashing his most adorable dimpled smile. Can I just say how much I love you for not traumatizing me like that?”

Stiles had been trying to distract him for the past six hours, talking about anything and everything in between administering backrubs, getting ice, and studiously wiping away sweat from _both_ of their foreheads and even though Derek had asked him to talk he was now getting to a point where all he wanted to do was concentrate on pushing, his grip on Stiles’ hand tightening to a point where the man let out a loud yelp.

“That’s it, you’re almost there! One good push and the head will be out!”

When the baby’s shoulders followed Derek held his breath, sucking in air in huge gulps when their first baby let out a loud wail, announcing his birth to the world and looking red, wrinkly, and perfect when Melissa placed him on his chest, his mewling quieting down at the familiar sound of Derek’s heartbeat.

“There’s your Christmas Eve baby, a beautiful little boy!” Melissa said proudly and Stiles laughed, tears in his eyes as he kissed Derek’s nose, his mouth, his forehead.

Derek couldn’t take his eyes off their little boy, amazed at how much of his father and himself he could see in their son already, even though his set of lungs – big, perfectly working lungs – seemed to have been passed down to him from his Daddy.

Derek didn’t want to let him go, his arms feeling empty when the nurse took him to get weighed, measured, and checked, but they had another little lady impatiently waiting to make her entrance, as his body reminded him with another contraction that made him bite his lip in agony.

Ten minutes, a turn of the calendar-page (“I cannot even believe she took her time until the minute after it turned midnight _just_ so she wouldn’t have to share her birthday with her brother, she’s going to be our little Diva, mark my words!”), and two pushes later Stiles was crying, his exclamations of “She looks just like the Bunny-Baby, oh my god, Derek, she’s so beautiful” almost inaudible through his sobs, and Derek cradled his baby-girl carefully against his chest, firmly convinced that their second daughter looked – in fact – nothing at all like her sister, who, despite her hazel eyes and pitch-black hair, was all Stiles, from the tiny moles on her face down to her facial expressions when she tried to tell them a particularly outrageous story.

This one reminded him of Cora, actually, and when Stiles sat down next to him with their son cradled in a blanket there was no mistaking their resemblance, looking almost as identical as boy-girl twins could.

Their son had calmed down and was soundly sleeping in Stiles’ arms, long eyelashes fluttering against his soft cheeks, and Stiles beamed at Derek, nodding towards their still mewling baby girl and whispering, “She’s going to be the feisty one, isn’t she?”, letting out a soft laugh when Derek snorted softly and replied, “You do remember we still have Amy, right?” and wincing at the implication alongside his exhausted boyfriend.

An hour later Derek and Stiles were both resting, each of them holding a healthy, sleeping baby, and when Derek turned towards Stiles after a moment of contemplation his eyes were moist.

“I was going to ask you … I know we agreed on naming our son after our fathers, and I still want to do that, definitely, it’s just that … my mother never called my father by his full name, did I ever tell you that? I was almost ten years old before I learned he was actually a Sebastian and not a Bastian. He looks so much like Papa, I was wondering if we could maybe go with that? I think it’s what both of my parents would have wanted.”

“Bastian John Stilinski-Hale?” Stiles asked softly, glancing at their sleeping baby-boy in Derek’s arms with a warm smile on his face.

“I like it. Coincidentally, that’s also the name of the hero of _The Neverending Story_ , so that works perfectly for me.”

“Firstly, the hero in _The Neverending Story_ was Atreju, and secondly, isn’t it an interesting _coincidence_ that our children always seem to end up honoring your fictional favorite characters?” Derek teased him and Stiles rolled his eyes, muttering, “Amy was _your_ idea my love, not mine, and I didn’t suggest Amelia solely because Amy Pond is my favorite _Doctor Who_ companion. I just ... appreciated the coincidence. And I did _not_ enjoy Lydia’s mean-spirit accusations!”

“What about our daughter, then? Any _Star Trek_ officers or cartoon heroes you would like to _coincidentally_ honor?” Derek asked, nodding towards their baby-girl in Stiles’ arms, and Stiles chuckled, adjusting her to get a better look.

“I know I said she reminded me of the Bunny-Baby an hour ago, but I think that was a heat of the moment thing. If Malia wouldn’t have clawed off my balls with a short fingernail I’d think I knocked up your sister, this child looks like the perfect combination of me and Cora, to be honest,” he mused and Derek laughed, grateful that he wasn’t seeing things in his exhaustion.

“She certainly has the Cora Hale Glare of Being Decidedly Unimpressed down, that _has_ to be reflected in her middle name at least! Well, did you give my last suggestion some thought?” Stiles continued and Derek smiled.

“She does look like an Eliana to me,” he said softly, tilting his head a little when Stiles kissed his temple in agreement.

“Bastian and Eliana it is. Eliana Cora Stilinski-Hale?” he continued and Stiles chuckled, shaking his head.

“She’s _still_ teasing us about Amy’s names all rhyming with each other, I’d like to avoid that this time, if possible,” Stiles replied, grinning when a thought came to him.

“Eliana _Corinne_ Stilinski-Hale! It kind of sounds like Cora, it flows really well _and_ we can claim we’re honoring my French ancestor!” he decided, smiling sheepishly when Derek snorted.

“The one you made up? Sure, Stiles, we can name our beloved daughter after your invisible grandmas.”

He looked at their baby-girl for a moment and then nodded.

“I like it though. It suits her. Bastian John and Eliana Corinne Stilinski-Hale. I also like how our names do not at all reflect the first five letters of the Alphabet.”

“Papa is a little delirious, Puppies,” Stiles said softly, not looking at Derek as he kept rocking Eliana in his arms and Derek chuckled, bending down to kiss Bastian’s forehead before he fixed Stiles with an amused smile.

“Papa saw Daddy’s ID. Papa is not delirious at all,” he replied and Stiles clucked his tongue, shaking his head firmly.

“To this day Papa can’t even pronounce Czcibor, so I think we’re going to go with him being delusional right now.”

“We’re going to be the stars at any spelling-bee tournament,” Derek said softly and Stiles grinned, adding, “Of course we will be, they’ll be some very smart little cookies!”

Five hours of blessedly uninterrupted sleep later Stiles was spelling out their daughter’s name to Nurse Harris, who looked equally pissed off at having to work on Christmas Day and having to interact with Stiles again, and Derek was feeding Bastian, who was already latching onto the bottle like a pro, while Eliana had been more skeptical about it at first.

Both fathers looked up in surprise when Melissa walked in, having expected her to stay home with the Sheriff and Amy for another couple of hours before they brought their oldest in for a visit and looking on in confusion when she placed two car seats on the bed.

“Our Christmas gifts, from John and me,” she explained, leaning over to stroke her fingers across Bastian’s cheek and smiling from ear to ear.

“In pink and blue? Lydia’s going to be _very_ unimpressed,” Stiles commented, puffing out his chest proudly and ignoring Derek’s amused eye-roll when Melissa cooed over Eliana, safely snuggled in her daddy’s arms.

“They are so beautiful, boys, I’m really proud of you! Now, how do you feel about bundling up these precious darlings and bringing them home just in time for the big sister to wake up from her Christmas-candy-coma and discover that Santa brought her two more gifts this year?”

“What?” Derek asked, looking confused, and Stiles echoes his confusion, blurting, “Home?” as they both stared at Melissa.

Melissa nodded, frowning.

“Yes. Home. Unless you wanted to stay here another day, but I don’t really see why. The babies are perfectly healthy, Derek is doing well, and you’ll have a Doula _and_ a doctor specialized in carrier births at your side for the rest of the holidays, so I don’t really see why you should stay any longer in this hospital than is absolutely necessary.”

“We can take them home? Today? Just like that?”

Derek knew he sounded as if he was terrified that he would wake up from a perfect dream at any second but he couldn’t quite help it and Melissa’s expression softened in understanding.

“They are perfect, Derek. Just like the precious Bunny-Baby back home. And I think it’s about time they meet, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do,” Derek whispered, smiling at Stiles, who also looked like he couldn’t believe it, and when their eyes met he knew Stiles was going through the same emotions as he was right now, relief beyond measure that there would not be horrible nights and days watching over a tiny baby in the NICU, yet almost unwilling to believe that nothing had gone wrong this time.

It wasn’t until Derek was lying in their bed with his twins safely nestled in the crook of each arm that he really started to believe it, his back propped up against multiple pillows as he waited for Stiles to bring in Amy.

Amy looked like she was about to jump out of Stiles’ arms when he carried her inside, her eyes widening when she caught sight of the babies.

Bastian was dressed in the same green wolf onesie in which they had brought Amy back from the hospital and Eliana was wearing a soft purple onesie with a yellow duck, courtesy of Cora, who still didn’t want children and had given them the onesie Talia had made for her firstborn a couple of weeks ago, arguing that it should not go to waste.

She had been waiting for Derek and Stiles to carry the babies into the house, holding a finger to her lips to indicate that Amy was still sleeping, and then promptly bursting into tears when she had heard both names.

She was still sniffling, in fact, arms wrapped around Malia as they stood next to a beaming Sheriff, who had also wanted to be there when his grandchildren met for the first time and everyone was quiet as Stiles placed Amy on the bed and told her to be careful before letting her crawl up to Derek, who angled the babies a little to give her a better look.

“This is your brother Bastian and this is your sister Eliana,” Derek said softly, smiling at her in encouragement and Amy sat down next to him almost reverently, looking like she was itching to touch but didn’t quite dare.

“I’m a big sister now?” she asked, looking to her Daddy for confirmation, and Stiles, who had knelt down on the bed beside her, ruffled her hair, a beaming smile on his face.

“That’s right Amy-Bunny. You’re a big sister now. You’re going to be the best big sister in the universe, right?”

“Right Daddy,” Amy agreed, eyes wide as Stiles carefully guided her hand to touch first Bastian then Eliana’s little hands, chuckling when Amy let out a sound of amazement.

“Did you hear that, Derek?” Stiles asked softly, too low for everyone else to hear but loud enough for Derek, who was watching Amy stare at her siblings with a mixture of awe and confusion.

“She’s going to be the best big sister in the world. She just promised.”

“He’s right, Derek,” Cora said softly, eyes once more swimming with tears as she sat down on Derek’s other side and gently grasped Bastian’s hand, laughing quietly when he grabbed her finger on instinct.

“She’s going to be the best big sister in the universe. History will not repeat itself. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen.”

“And so will I,” Stiles said somberly, pressing a kiss on Amy’s hair and hugging her close.

“I’ll make sure of it. I promise you.”

 

=================

_4 Years Later_

“See? I told you I was going to make sure history wasn’t going to repeat itself,” Stiles whispered into Derek’s ear and Derek, who was leaning against Stiles’ chest and was barely able to keep his eyes open, chuckled softly.

They had brought their baby boy home a couple of hours ago and once the older children had gotten over the initial excitement the entire family had retired to Derek and Stiles’ bedroom, where they were currently all sprawled over the king sized bed.

Szymon Eric Stilinski-Hale, named after Stiles’ dziadek and his proud godmother – who had cried for almost an hour when she had heard the name and then proceeded to threaten destruction to the plenty of video evidence –, was a 9 pound 8 ounces little miracle, their biggest baby yet and, as far as Derek and his still very sore nether regions were concerned, most definitely their last.

Cradled in Amy’s arms Derek almost couldn’t believe his son was only three days old, as the size difference between his almost 10 pound newborn and his tiny seven year old daughter was quite a sight to behold.

Amy had gone through a bit of a growth spurt a while back but she was still the shortest girl in her class and Derek had made his peace with the fact that his baby girl would likely always be a bit tinier than everyone else, figuring that, in the long run, having to ask someone else to get her an item off the highest shelf was a small price to pay compared to almost every other complication they had been afraid of during the long nights in the hospital almost eight years years ago.

“What do you think Amy – should we keep your new baby-brother?” Stiles asked, grinning mischievously and Amy’s expression was nothing short of scandalized, her hazel eyes widened to the point of saucers as she stared at her daddy.

“ _Of course_ we’re going to keep him Daddy!” she said firmly and Derek turned towards Stiles, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah, Daddy, Papa didn’t spend all that time pushing in _agony_ for nothing,” he said dryly and Stiles kissed his cheek apologetically, clearly remembering the 13 hour long ordeal that had concluded Derek’s third pregnancy.

Up until that point, compared to the first two times, carrying his second son had been a near picture-perfect pregnancy experience.

There had been no morning sickness at all this time and if he hadn’t started showing at five weeks he wouldn’t have even realized he was pregnant again, especially since they hadn’t been trying at all, having attributed the slight tiredness to a new campaign and his four year old twins, who had been going through a blessedly short-lived sibling rivalry phase and fought constantly.

In all honesty, it had been Stiles who had noticed it first, by coincidence, really, one evening as Derek had been standing at the kitchen counter, cutting hot dogs into little moons for the ketchup spaghetti the man-child he had officially married to years ago allowed the children once a month.

The children had been watching some cartoon in the living room and they had been all alone in the kitchen, which Stiles had taken as an invitation to place his hands on Derek’s to get him to lay down the knife first – they had small children and it showed – before he had nuzzled against his neck, hands slipping under his shirt with unmistakable intention.

Derek had leaned against him, arching his back and thus pushing out his stomach just slightly as he had angled his neck for better access and Stiles, whose hands had been slipping down his happy-trail had stilled against him, making an intrigued sound.

He had cradled his lower abdomen then, not saying anything for a second and when he had spoken next he had sounded a bit shell-shocked, as well as undeniably excited.

“Uhm … this is either going to be an incredibly offensive or a really intuitive question, but … is there something you were going to tell me?”

Derek had frowned, looking down at where Stiles’ ministrations had pushed up his shirt, his long fingers covering the curve of his belly almost completely, and he had let out a surprised sound at the very familiar sight.

“That … wasn’t there the other day.”

“I definitely paid close attention,” Stiles had confirmed, fingers flexing against his skin as he had hooked his chin over Derek’s shoulder and looked down himself.

“This feels familiar, Derek,” he had whispered and Derek had stilled against him, trying to listen inside himself, to figure out if the very particular way Stiles’ hands had been framing his stomach could actually mean what Stiles clearly thought it meant.

“Are you …”

“Do you think I …”

They had spoken at the same time, both of them letting out a nervous chuckle, and Derek had turned around, looking at his husband incredulously.

“I think I should take a test. Just to be sure,” he had said slowly, shaking his head in resignation when Stiles had yelped, “Store! Now! Be _right_ back!”, almost knocking over a chair on his way to the door.

Derek had cringed when he had heard his husband yell, “Make sure Papa drinks at least ten glasses of water! Tell him he doesn’t get dessert if he doesn’t!” to the kids and by the time he had returned from the drugstore Derek had been the one to almost barrel him over, mouthing, “ _Ten_?” at him incredulously as he had stormed to the bathroom.

“Papa only drank five glasses, but they were big glasses, so we think he can have dessert,” Amy had informed Stiles seriously and Stiles had barked a nervous laugh, trying not to listen in to what Derek was up to in the bathroom as he had pulled the ice-cream out of the freezer, needing something to keep his hands busy.

“Daddy, before you have dessert you need to drink ten glasses, too, or else it’s not fair!” Bastian had told him, with Eliana firmly nodding her approval.

“Ten? But if Papa only drank five doesn’t that mean I can leave it at five, as well?” Stiles had mock-complained and Amy had shaken her head with a little frown, exclaiming, “No Daddy, your glass is smaller!” with conviction.

“But …”

“Daddy already _fruitfully_ sampled the dessert menu, leaving behind only the seeds. He’s getting no more dessert tonight!”

Stiles, who had raised his first glass to his lips under the watchful gazes of his children, had spluttered, spat water all over his spaghetti and caused the twins to giggle loudly, while Amy had looked a bit scandalized.

He had looked up to see Derek standing in the doorway to the dining room, eyes wide and a large smile on his face, both hands resting over his abdomen.

“Yeah?” Stiles had breathed and Derek had nodded, whispering, “Yeah!” and laughing with joy when Stiles had jumped up from the chair he had just sat down on and wrapped him up in an embrace, kissing him again and again as their children had looked on in slight confusion.

Despite Derek’s declaration – “We can _never_ tell our baby that story, he or she will be mortified at that pun” – Stiles had enjoyed quite a bit of celebratory dessert-time that night.

Derek had spent the next five weeks waiting for the morning sickness to rear its ugly head and had finally concluded that their fourth child was taking mercy on the fact that he already had three children next to his job and decided to not look a gift horse in the mouth.

He had continued to feel great throughout the rest of the pregnancy, the usual aches and pains minor compared to his first and second pregnancy, and even though his stomach had almost been as large as with their twins towards the end their sex life had never been more active, making him feel like he was glowing with happiness on the inside and outside.

They had found out they were expecting a boy at the 20-week mark and after Stiles, who had been sure that with the dominance of females in the Hale family they were sure to have another little girl, had gotten over the surprise he had asked Derek to consider naming their second son after his dziadek, a request that Derek, who often thought about the brave man and wished that he could have been around to see how far they had come, had granted only too happily.

Stiles had asked him if he had wanted to honor his carrier-grandfather, as well, but after giving the matter a couple of days of thought Derek had declined, not quite sure if he should feel bad about it. His grandfather had been a quiet man and Derek had never been close to him, though he now understood that his grandfather’s constant sadness had been an actual disease.

He recognized that the man had not had it easy, but at the same time, knowing what it was like to have children, Derek couldn’t quite stop himself from being a little angry at him, wondering if Peter would have turned out as bitter as he had been if his father had protected him from Philippa Hale’s hatred, instead of, from what he could tell from his mother’s letter, not even making an effort to get better.

As far as he was concerned naming children after someone indicated that one wanted them to grow up to be like them, and while he would have been proud of having a son who was just like Stiles’ dziadek he and Stiles were in definite agreement that Erica was a much better role model than Andrew Hale.

He was trying not to judge his grandfather too much, knowing how hard being a carrier could be, but he simply didn’t feel right about naming his baby after him.

With only minor pregnancy-related discomforts and three active children to keep them occupied outside of work, the second half of the pregnancy had seemingly flown by and once Derek had gone on paternity leave at 36 weeks Stiles had requested paternity leave as well, both of them expecting their little boy to make his grand appearance within the next one or two weeks, continuing the Stilinski-Hale children tradition of being born earlier than their due dates.

Szymon, however, had stayed put, happily pummeling Derek’s organs and providing their older children with endless entertainment whenever they had watched the active movements through their Papa’s skin.

Derek, who, after all the anxiety regarding Amy’s IUGR and the knowledge that twins tended to come early, had never truly experienced the feeling of being bone-tired of pregnancy and just wanting it to be over already, had found himself in exactly that mindset on the day that a disbelieving Stiles had marked off the beginning of Week 41 on their calendar, his eyes sympathetic as he had watched Derek glower at his distended middle with an impatient expression.

“I’m all for you being big and strong when you’re born, I truly am, for many reasons, but you _do_ realize I still have to push you out of a very tiny birth canal, don’t you, Szymon?” Derek had told his stomach that night, morosely inspecting the stretchmarks on his side and Stiles had wordlessly handed over their copy of _What to Expect When You’re Carrying_ , page opened to the tips for labor inducement.

The sex had been very slow and careful and when Derek, who had no longer been able to sleep comfortably no matter what he did, had woken him up five hours later for a second round “Just to make sure!” Stiles hadn’t complained, his thrusts still gentle but with a bit more intent this time, just as Derek had impatiently requested halfway through.

They had repeated the exercise three more times during the day and two more times that night and when Derek had once again shaken him awake in the early morning hours Stiles had groaned loudly, pulling the pillow over his head and rolling on his stomach in protest.

“Gnaaah, I never thought I’d say this but enough is enough! No more sexy times for Stiles, heck, Stiles hasn’t been this dehydrated and sore since he was a teenager! Nope, Stiles is temporarily done with the sexy times, I love you eternally but I’m sorry, you’re going to have to channel this unholy energy into your right hand!”

“I’m … _fuck, ow_ , I’m very definitely on board with no more sexy times for Stiles! Forever!” Derek had gritted through clenched teeth and Stiles had shot upright, eyes widening when he had taken in the pained expression on Derek’s face and the way he had been gripping his abdomen.

Six hours later Derek would have sold his grandmother to the devil – “Funnily enough I think she’s already there, don’t you think?” – to have never made the acquaintance of the heretofore unknown joy that was full-on back-labor, and it had been another six grueling hours until Melissa had finally told him he could start pushing.

By that time Derek had been drenched in sweat and crying out with every contraction, no longer even caring that he probably sounded like a wolf howling at the moon and Stiles’ hair had been pulled every which way, his hands constantly kneading into Derek’s back in their more or less fruitless attempts to alleviate his pain at least somewhat.

It had taken six pushes and then the world had once again stood still, the only important thing in the universe the screaming, almost 10 pound baby-boy Melissa had placed on Derek’s chest with a beaming smile.

Watching Stiles whisper to their son in Polish, tears rolling down his face uncontrollably as he had rocked him in his arms, had made even the severest of post-natal cramps bearable and Derek hadn’t even thought it was possible to feel more loved than he already did on a daily basis, his heart stuttering in his chest as Stiles had whispered, “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” over and over again.

They had stayed in the hospital for the first two days and even though Derek had craved the laughter of his older children he had also been relieved to have the time to rest, the long, strenuous birth having taking a bigger toll on him than he had been expecting after his easy recovery with the twins.

Szymon had been almost 24 hours old when the Sheriff had brought Amy, Bastian, and Eliana for a visit and even though Derek still didn’t know _who_ exactly had been responsible for putting his twins into one pair of mesh panties to keep them entertained, he was in definite agreement with Stiles that the picture would make a perfect addition to the one they were planning to use for the Christmas cards that year; a reaction shot of all three children staring wide-eyed at the new baby in a tired but smiling Derek’s arms, while Stiles hovered over them with a proud grin on his face.

He was wearing that same proud grin now, as they watched the twins carefully pat the baby’s hands under Amy’s strict gaze.

“Just so you know Derek,” Stiles whispered into his ear, “I’m sure Dziadek would have understood if we’d spelled our son’s name the American way and not set him up for having to correct everyone for the rest of his life.”

Derek chuckled, remembering Nurse Harris’ near outraged face when he had been forced to correct Simon to Szymon, the judgment on his face once again clear to see all the way into space.

“I know. But it wouldn’t have been _his_ name if we had spelled it the American way,” he replied and Stiles tightened his hold on him, kissing his hair softly.

They had gotten the test results regarding their son’s status back just before they had left the hospital and it had made the homage to Stiles’ dziadek all the more poignant.

Screening babies for the carrier-status was a relatively new procedure, an improvement of the old blood test that now delivered 99.9 percent conclusive results as to whether or not a boy was a carrier right after birth and the ERC had been both cautious and excited about the test.

On the one hand, the new protocol effectively ruled out situations like Derek’s ever happening again, as the test was always sent to two different labs for confirmation.

The now almost defunct RMA and AMA had protested sharply against the costs but the country’s newly elected President, whose carrier son was currently expecting his third child with his husband, had stood his ground.

On the other hand, the screenings had led to a dramatic increase in carrier baby-boys being abandoned in hospitals or given up for adoption, and even though Derek believed that, in the long run, the children would be better off with people who accepted them for who they were, he wasn’t blind and knew that not all of them would make it out of the system, his heart breaking a little every time the ERC received another report about a little boy being found on the steps of a church or in front of a hospital.

Making sure that these boys were adopted by loving parents or – alternatively – were protected by the system, was a new battleground for the ERC and Cora and Malia, who had never felt the need to have children themselves, had literally found themselves on the front-line when Derek’s little sister, three weeks after the procedure had been approved and the first carrier-baby-boys had turned up abandoned, had almost stumbled over a sleeping baby wrapped tightly in a blanket, his parents having left him in front of the ERC headquarters.

By the time the police had arrived Cora had been head over heels in love with the boy and even though Derek and Stiles both couldn’t help feeling angry at his birth-parents, whose decision to leave their carrier-son in front of the ERC couldn’t have been a bigger ideological statement and had left no doubt about the reason they had given him away, they also appreciated having their nephew in their lives.

Tate Hale – “We can’t both adopt him because we aren’t married and really, why shouldn’t we use advantage of the fact that Malia’s last name is an actual boy-name, shut up Mr. ‘I gave my first-born three first names and a hyphenated last-name and think I can actually judge other people’s baby-naming decisions’” – was two years old now, and, as far as Derek was concerned, Tate would grow up to be the biggest mama’s boy in the history of the world, his attachment to Cora only equaled by his undying adoration for Malia.

Inspired by Cora’s hands-on example Stiles, after careful consideration, had resigned his editing department leading position at the company a year after the problem of abandoned carrier-baby-boys had first become known, determined to devote as much time to the protection of these children as he possibly could and finding that he couldn’t do it as well with his other duties.

Derek had been sad that they no longer worked together, having gotten used to his husband checking in on him throughout the day, but he admired Stiles’ dedication, confident that, now that he was not only married to a carrier but actually had his own carrier-son, Stiles would be a bigger force than ever in the fight for equal rights.

They had actually been talking about adopting one of the abandoned baby-boys when Derek had discovered he was pregnant again and even though the plans had currently been put on hold – “I love them, I dearly love them, but I’m never going through two colicky babies at the same time again, I still have nightmares, Derek!” – Derek was sure that – once Szymon was old enough, there was at least one more little brother in their children’s future, maybe even two, as Stiles still wanted to have a big family and Derek, as much as he had enjoyed his last pregnancy, had a feeling that he was done giving birth himself.

Going by the adoring look on Amy and Eliana’s faces as they looked at Szymon, Derek felt confident that his baby-girls wouldn’t mind being outnumbered by brothers one tiny bit.

They had also gotten Bastian tested as soon as the procedure had been approved and Derek had been surprised that their twin-boy, who looked so much like him that Stiles often playfully wondered if he had actually been involved at all, had been a non-carrier, having figured the odds for him to be able to carry his own child one day to be much higher given his ancestry.

Szymon was almost the complete opposite, a miniature near perfect copy of his Daddy, but with the carrier-gene that had been passed down to him from his father, his grandfather, and his two carrier-great-grandfathers.

Derek knew that being a carrier didn’t automatically mean one was attracted to other men and that his son could well end up father children – if that was what he wanted to do – with a lovely woman who deserved him, but he couldn’t help imagine Szymon all grown up and carrying his and Stiles’ grandbaby, regardless of what other people thought.

It was a thought that had scared him so much when he had been pregnant with Bastian and Eliana and Derek was surprised to find that – now that his actual carrier-son was snuggled in his arms – it was no longer scary at all.

As of now, their baby’s only concern was sleeping and eating, the latter of which the increasingly displeased mewling seemed to suggest and so Derek grabbed the bottle Stiles had brought up earlier, watching the baby’s eyes flutter shut in contentment as he suckled and listening to the laughs of the children downstairs, who were trying to get Stiles to have only dessert for dinner – in honor of their new baby-brother, of course.

When Szymon was done he burped him gently, still feeling tired but not ready to let his baby-boy sleep in his crib just yet and so he continued to hold him, looking up in confusion when the doorbell rang.

It was almost bedtime for the older children and their friends always called before they came over at that hour, so Derek figured it was probably Cora, who had volunteered to bring them more diapers when they had realized in the hospital that the newborn diapers they had stacked at home were simply too small for their baby already.

A minute later, Amy stuck her head inside the room, her expression confused.

“Is it Auntie Cora?” Derek asked, adjusting Szymon in his arms, and Amy cast a furtive glance into the hallway, shuffling uncomfortably.

“No Papa. There is a sad lady here to see you, but Daddy is really mad at her and isn’t allowing her to come inside,” she told him and Derek frowned.

“A sad lady?” he asked and Amy nodded, frowning herself.

“Daddy called her Laura and he’s really angry at her, even though she’s so sad. Daddy always cuddles me when I’m sad, I don’t understand why he is angry with the Laura-Lady. She was crying, you don’t get mad at someone when they’re crying,” she said after a moment of consideration and Derek inhaled sharply, feeling his stomach plummet.

“Laura?” he whispered and Amy nodded, looking at him unhappily when Stiles’ voice got louder downstairs.

Derek didn’t catch everything but he could hear “Have to see …” “… no right to …” “… make it right!” and “… the nerve!”, and even though he barely recognized Laura’s voice he could hear her pain, could hear something he hadn’t thought her to be capable of after everything that had happened before Amy’s birth and the almost eight years of radio silence that had followed since.

Laura sounded remorseful.

He had been waiting for her to show remorse for eight long years, had given up on ever seeing his big sister again for good when they had announced Bastian and Eliana’s birth and there had been no word from her, the only sign that she was even still alive the regular withdrawals from her trust-fund, that neither Cora nor Derek had had the heart to cut off, both of them feeling that stooping down to the level where money was involved was the last thing they themselves – or their parents – would have wanted.

Yet she was here now, and even though Derek recognized that he was probably still extremely hormonal at merely three days post-partum and possibly not making the best decisions, he realized that he wanted to hear her out.

“Amelia … can you go downstairs and tell Daddy to send Laura to me?” he asked her and Amy, who knew that she was only called Amelia when something very serious was happening, nodded, not questioning his order as she bounded down the stairs.

A minute later Stiles stuck his head inside the room, looking at Derek as if he had lost his mind.

“Are you absolutely, one-hundred percent sure that’s what you want? You just got home from the hospital a couple of hours ago, this is …”

“Stiles. Please,” Derek said quietly but firmly and Stiles sighed, looking at Szymon and holding out his arms.

“This is a mistake Derek. I love you, but this is a mistake. Do you want me to take him?”

Derek shook his head, tightening his hold on Szymon instinctively and Stiles sighed louder, shaking his head.

“I’ll be outside the entire time. The moment she says something wrong her ass is out the door. I mean it. And I don’t give a rat’s ass if she’s a ‘sad lady’ or not!”

“I love you,” Derek replied and then Stiles was kissing him, his fingers softly stroking along his cheekbones as he leaned back to look at him.

“If she hurts you again it doesn’t only affect you but me and the kids as well. I won’t let that happen! You believe that, right?”

“I wouldn’t have had three more children with you if I didn’t,” Derek said softly and Stiles bent down to kiss Szymon’s forehead, whispering something in Polish that Derek was pretty sure included the words “crazy” and “devil”, but it wasn’t like he could fault him.

He looked at his son when Stiles walked outside and once again spoke in a harsh voice, trying to draw strength from the sleeping baby and feeling his heart clench painfully in his chest when there was a harsh gasp from the doorway.

Derek looked up slowly and then he could barely stifle his own gasp, barely recognizing the woman standing in the entrance of their bedroom as his big sister anymore.

Derek was 37 years old now, which meant that Laura was just barely getting close to the big 40, but she might as well have been in her 50s, looking more than ten years older than she actually was.

She was a lot thinner than Derek remembered her, her gaunt features giving her a very sickly appearance, and her once brown hair streaked with grey.

She had more frown-lines than laugh-lines on her face and her eyes looked hollow, as if she had long forgotten how to smile.

Even though Derek wanted nothing more than to ask “What _happened_ to you?” he stayed silent, cradling his baby protectively against his chest and watching Laura carefully, waiting for her to make the first move.

“Derek,” she said, voice breaking, and Derek inhaled deeply, trying to keep his face blank as he replied, “Laura,” raising his eyebrow to prompt her to keep talking.

“You … This is … I like what you’ve done with the place.”

Laura flinched when Derek shook his head with a bitter snort, looking at her sadly.

“Eight years Laura! Eight years and you’re going to talk about interior design with me? Try again!” he said firmly and Laura’s expression crumpled, her hands twitching at her sides as she seemed to struggle for words.

“I … I wanted to …”

She trailed off, looking angry at herself for a moment before she exhaled slowly, looking at the baby for the first time since she had entered the room.

“You got married,” she whispered, almost inaudibly, and Derek nodded, tightening his right arm around Szymon so he could hold up his left hand.

“I did. I also had four children,” he said calmly and Laura swallowed, looking at the floor.

“I’m sorry I missed your wedding Derek. I promised to give you away one day when you were 14. Do you remember that? We were all lying in bed on that trip P… on that trip Peter took us on to remember the one year anniversary of the fire and you said that Mom had told you she would give you away one day because it was unfair that only dads got to have all the fun. I told you I would do it instead of her. I promised you. I’m so sorry I didn’t keep that promise.”

Derek nodded, his heart clenching in his chest at the memory.

“You didn’t keep a lot of promises. And there are a lot of things that you missed Laura.”

He adjusted Szymon in his arms, shifting him so that Laura could see his face.

“You have no idea how much you missed Laura,” he said and Laura swallowed again, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes as she stared at the baby, almost unable to take her gaze off of him.

“What did I miss Derek? Please tell me what I missed,” she whispered and Derek snorted softly, looking at her incredulously.

“Are you sure you want to know? This goes back quite a bit,” he asked and when Laura nodded he took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice calm as he spoke.

“When I was 13 years old our carrier-born uncle, who had a hunch I would turn out to be a carrier, took me to a fugitive murderer and jeopardized my health for years by forcing me to take a dangerous form of birth-control, keeping my carrier-status hidden from me yet treating me like a carrier all along, while I had no clue why I was never good enough, why he gave me tasks yet treated me as if I couldn’t possibly fulfill them. It didn’t matter though, because even though he was a little strange I always had my sisters to back me up. Eight years ago I had a one-night stand and because of an almost karmic chain of events I became pregnant. I had no idea I could become pregnant, so I jeopardized my own and my baby’s health for five months, until the moment I first felt my baby kick and realized what was going on. I spent the next couple of weeks in a panic, too scared to tell my friends and family, some of whom had embarked on an anti-carrier crusade, and _definitely_ too scared to tell the father, who I believed hated me. My secret was eventually discovered and – just as I had feared – I was kicked out of my own company and half of my family disowned me, as if I had brought shame on our family when the only shame was that we let hatred overpower the loyalty our parents tried to instill in us from the time we were little! Because I had hidden my pregnancy for so long and not taken good care of myself my baby and I weren’t doing so good. Therefore, even though the baby’s father eventually found out and reacted better than I had ever expected or perhaps deserved, I spent the next two months fearing for my baby’s life, not realizing that my own life was at stake as well. Then Peter came up with a plan to have me killed and my daughter almost died.”

Derek took another deep breath, noting with almost grim satisfaction that Laura had begun to shake.

“Her Daddy and I spent four weeks in the hospital, watching her struggle for every single breath, praying as I had never prayed before in my life. Thinking my baby was going to die was the worst pain I have ever felt in my life, and I didn’t even think it could get any worse after burying Mom, Papa, and our grandparents. Only it _can_ get worse, and watching my baby stop breathing, even if it was just for a minute or so, was like dying myself, only worse, if that make sense. Then she got better and the day I brought my baby home was the happiest day of my life. Her name is Amelia Talia Claudia Stilinski-Hale, she’s almost eight years old, and despite all the heartache that came with bringing her into this world I am thankful to be her father every single day.”

He smiled and Laura’s lips twitched as if she wasn’t quite sure whether to smile back or cry, her eyes having widened at Amy’s full name.

Derek continued.

“It wasn’t easy those first couple of months. Her Daddy and I were still trying to figure out everything, not only how to be parents, but also how to be _partners_ after everything. We made it through, though, and when he asked me to have another baby about three years later I did not hesitate for even a single second. Of course we weren’t expecting to conceive twins, but then you never really know what to expect, and we love them deeply. Bastian John and Eliana Corinne are four now, they were born ten minutes apart, on Christmas Eve and on Christmas Day, and we couldn’t have been happier. We got married when they were two years old and we thought our family was complete, that we would have two daughters and a son, just like our parents. Thankfully, this little boy didn’t care about what his stupid fathers thought.”  

He rocked Szymon gently, smiling at the baby.

“You have no idea how glad we are he proved us wrong,” he continued softly, smile widening when Szymon twitched, still not used to the big world around him.

“Those, in a nutshell, are all the things that you missed. There is a lot more, but frankly I’m a little too exhausted to tell you the details of your nieces’ and nephews’ lives right now, especially when I don’t even know if you actually care, you know?”

He shrugged, not missing the pained whimper Laura barely managed to stifle, cocking his head and staring at her more intently.

“My turn. What did _I_ miss? I have been wondering about this for years, even though Stiles kept telling me I should just let it go, but I just … I couldn’t. What did I miss Laura? When did I stop paying attention to what was going on with you? Please tell me, what did I miss?”

Laura wrapped her arms around herself, shivering, as if she was cold.

“It’s quite easy, really. When I was 15 years old my parents died. And I placed my trust in the wrong person. It was the biggest mistake I have ever made.”

She shrugged, not looking at him as she continued.

“Peter was … he was angry, Derek. He was so incredibly _angry_ , mostly at our grandfather I think but also at Mom, at Papa, at everyone except Grandma, really, and watching him deal with everything I quickly realized that being angry was a lot easier than being sad. When I was sad I felt like _I_ was the one who had died, like I couldn’t even move, like I was barely breathing. But when I was angry it was … it was invigorating. It allowed me to go on living. And I wanted to live so badly, so anger is what I decided to go with. In the beginning the carriers were an easy target; it didn’t take much at all for Peter to convince me carriers really _had_ burned down our house, and over the years I also started to feel angry at Mom, for not listening to Peter’s warnings. I was feeling so lost, so hurt, and it just didn’t get better. Maybe that’s hard for you to understand because you had Cora and even though the two of you also never went to grief counseling you still had each other to draw strength from. I had Peter. And Peter’s main purpose for taking me under his wing was to fuel my anger. He kept me from healing and I didn’t even see it.”

She sighed, rubbing at her eyes and looking tired.

“I know it sounds like excuses, like I’m blaming him for all those horrible things I said and did, not only to you but to others as well. I _do_ blame him, to an extent, but I’ve had a long time to think about this on my own Derek, and I have replayed many situations where I could have taken a different route over the years. The way I treated you when you were lying in that hospital it was … it was unforgiveable. I could have harmed the baby and even though in hindsight I desperately want to believe that that was never my intention I just … I don’t know. I was so angry at you, I felt so betrayed, and having to channel all that hatred I had been cultivating for years at my _little brother_ was just … it was brutal. And I guess I blamed you for that, too. But I need you to know I had no idea what Peter was planning! Please, if that’s the only thing you’ll believe me after all these years, I would have _never_ agreed to this! But I didn’t see it coming, either, and I should have! It was my job to protect you and I threw it away because of a prejudice and didn’t even think twice about it! I have blamed myself for what happened to you everyday since and I can never make that right again!”

The first tear was rolling down her face now and Derek forced himself to keep silent, waiting for her to continue and when she did she sounded heartbroken.

“Peter’s death … it unhinged me. I don’t even remember coming to confront you in the hospital, I was just … I wasn’t quite there anymore. They took me to Eichen House, pumped me full of meds for quite a while, and once they no longer thought I was going to off myself if I was left unsupervised for just one second they let me talk. I talked for a long time and it felt good to get all of my thoughts and feelings off of my chest. Then they told me to listen, and for the first time in my life I really, truly did. I heard things that weren’t pretty, Derek, things that made me angry, disgusted at myself, things that I didn’t want to hear so badly that I once threw a chair at a counselor. But I listened, and when they released me from Eichen House a year later they encouraged me to seek out you and Cora, to tell you my version of the story and ask for your forgiveness. I wanted to so badly, Derek, but I knew neither of you could ever forgive me and I was too scared to hear it from you. So I stayed away.”

“Cora tried to find you about three years ago. You had stopped withdrawing money from the fund for almost half a year and we thought something had happened to you,” Derek said and Laura exhaled noisily, wrapping her arms around herself tighter.

“I was back in Eichen House,” she explained, worrying her lip between her teeth and looking resigned.

“Loneliness is, in a way, even more damaging to the soul than anger, and I got to a point where I realized that I was about to do something stupid … I didn’t want to do that before making amends and since I had learned to seek help when I needed it, I went back there. They tried to encourage me once more to contact you, but then I saw the picture of you guys in the paper, you know, the one of all five of you that you used to announce your wedding and I just ... you looked so happy, I didn’t want to ruin it.”

“What made you change your mind?”

Laura laughed, the sound brittle.

“I don’t know. Maybe I thought that … I saw the birth announcement for Szy … Szy …”

“Szymon. Like the English Simon,” Derek said quietly and Laura nodded, lips wobbling as she tried to smile.

“Szymon. I saw his birth announcement and I felt that … I never told you congratulations, Derek. I should have done that, but I didn’t, and I wanted to … I wanted to do it right this time.”

Her smile was even wobblier now but Derek could feel that she meant it when she whispered, “Congratulations, Derek. He’s beautiful.”

“He is. He’s perfect. Just like my other children,” Derek replied and Laura nodded, shifting on her feet a little.

“I saw them downstairs. Your little girl looks so much like Cora did when she was that age. And her twin is the spitting image of you. Your older girl looks more like Stiles, though she does have your eyes.”

“She has a lot of his personality, too. Including his tendency to eavesdrop,” Derek said with a smile, looking past Laura, and Laura whirled around, her eyes widening when a rather sheepish-looking Amy stuck her head inside the door.

“’s not my fault Papa. Bastian said his tummy hurt and Daddy had to go put him and Ellie to bed. He told me to make sure the sad lady didn’t turn into the mean lady and said he’d be right back.”

“Dessert for dinner, I could have told him,” Derek muttered, shaking his head, and Amy shrugged, as if she seriously doubted any correlation between her little brother’s upset stomach and the baby-brother-celebratory-candy-feast they had enjoyed earlier.

Laura let out a soft chuckle and Amy cocked her head, her hazel eyes narrowing as she marched up to Laura and stared her down.

“ _Are_ you going to be mean to my Papa? My Daddy will not like that and you’ll have to go into time-out,” she explained seriously and Laura shook her head, mouth agape as she stared at Amy, as if she couldn’t quite believe the little baby whose existence had caused so much drama all those years ago was actually standing in front of her now.

“I was very mean to your Papa once, Amelia. I had to go into time-out for a long time,” Laura whispered, looking at Derek hesitantly before she crouched down to be on eye-level with her, though she kept her arms firmly wrapped around her sides.

“Oh,” Amy said, looking at Derek questioningly, her furrowed eyebrows smoothing out when Derek smiled, not wanting her to become upset.

“Do you understand what you did wrong?” she continued, parroting back the time-out protocol Stiles and Derek had been using on their kids for the past eight years, and Derek held his breath when tears began to flow down Laura’s face in earnest now, her expression full of grief.

“I do! I had a long time to think about it, and I really do!” she whispered and Amy’s eyes widened.

“Are you _sorry_ for what you did wrong?” she enquired, taking a step towards Laura and placing her hands on her hips in a near perfect imitation of Stiles, and Laura nodded, a gasp escaping her lips when Amy unceremoniously wrapped her arms around her neck and kissed her cheek.

“Then it’s all ok. As long as you’re sorry and you won’t do it again it’s all ok.”

“I won’t do it again,” Laura choked out, and then she was sobbing, holding on to Amy for dear life.

Walking was definitely not the most pleasant sensation right now but Derek didn’t care, his baby-boy held closely against his chest as he got out of bed and joined them, wincing as he knelt down and placed a reassuring hand on Amy’s back, mouthing, “It’s ok,” when his startled daughter looked at him a little helplessly.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have … I’m so sorry Derek, I have no right, I … sorry!”

Laura let go of Amy like she had burned her and Derek took a deep breath, praying he was making the right decision as he turned towards Amy and motioned for her to hold up her arms, placing Szymon in her embrace carefully and instructing her to hold him tight and support his head.

“I know Papa, I’ll make sure he doesn’t get hurt! I’m the best big sister, I didn’t forget,” Amy chided him, bending over to kiss the baby’s bald head as proof and Laura let out another sob, staring at brother and sister as if her heart was breaking.

“Papa, why is Laura so sad?” Amy asked, looking at Derek in concern and Derek ruffled her hair, wondering how to explain everything that had happened to her in a way that wouldn’t scare her for life.

“I’m sad because I was a very bad big sister for your Papa,” Laura spoke up; her shoulders slumped in defeat as she continued to stare at Amy and Szymon.

“I forgot how to be a good big sister and because of it I was mean to your Papa. And I’m so sorry. I’m so very sorry,” she whispered, bending her head and staring at the floor in shame, her graying hair falling over her face.

Amy looked at Derek expectantly, her eyes narrowing when he didn’t move.

“Papa! You have to tell her it’s ok! Daddy! Tell Papa he needs to accept Laura’s apology!”

Stiles had stepped into the room without either his daughter or husband noticing, a sniffling Bastian in his arm and holding on to Eliana tightly with his free hand.

He looked tense and unhappy, though Derek wasn’t quite sure if that was because he disapproved of him being out of bed or the entire situation, and when their eyes met Stiles shook his head quietly, mouthing, “Are you sure?” and looking like he was seriously considering scoping up his family and running away from Laura, who had stopped sobbing now but was still staring at the floor, looking broken.

“We have a rule in this house,” Derek said slowly, voice breaking a little as he stared at his big sister.

“If someone makes a mistake and is really sorry afterwards we forgive him or her, because, at the end of the day, we’re a family and we’ll always have each other’s backs.”

“I made a very big mistake,” Laura whispered, not looking up and trembling like a leaf when Derek leaned forward, hesitating just a second before he gently grasped her chin to get her to look at him, his expression serious.

“You did. And it’s not going to be like it was. It can’t be, I’m a very different person now, and so are you. But my daughter is right – we forgive each other in this family … if the apology is _real_. Do you mean it, Laura?”

Laura inhaled shakily, her eyes flitting back and forth between the people in the room, taking in Stiles’ skeptical, warning expression, the confusion on Bastian and Eliana’s faces, the worried look in Amy’s eyes, the sleeping baby in her arms, and Derek, who was holding his breath now.

When she spoke she sounded broken but at the same time almost hopeful, a spark in her eyes that made her look much younger and painfully reminded Derek of the big sister who had always looked out for him, the one he had painfully missed all these years.

“I mean it. I never meant anything more.”

Stealing himself, Derek opened his arms and Laura collapsed against his chest, clinging to him as if he was a raft keeping her from drowning.

Stiles’ expression was still somewhat alarmed but the look in his eyes was gentle, if a bit resigned, telling him that he wasn’t quite sure Derek knew what he was doing but that he would be there for him regardless of whether or not he did.

Truthfully, Derek didn’t quite know what he was doing himself, aware that – even though he had seen flickers of the old Laura in the woman currently sobbing into his chest – he didn’t really know the person his sister had turned out to be and that, as much as his younger self wanted to trust her, he couldn’t, not until he actually got to know her again.

Yet, he was willing to try, if not for himself then for his children, who would soon learn that the world wasn’t all good, that there were people out there who wanted to hurt them, many of them for no reason, no matter how desperately he and Stiles wanted to shield them from this truth.

There was another truth, however, the truth that sometimes – not often, but still often enough to keep them all going – people _could_ change, that it wasn’t all hopeless and that, with patience and love, true change could be accomplished.

Derek had no idea if Laura was strong enough to teach them that lesson, if there was still enough of her former self left to overcome the difficulties on the long road it would take all of them to trust each other again.

However, when he looked at his tiny daughter holding her little carrier-brother protectively, he wanted to believe it was possible.

Going by the expression in Laura’s eyes, so did she.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end :).
> 
> I left this somewhat open-ended on purpose, since I want you guys to have your own head-canon to the extent of which Laura and Derek could move past all of this, but based on canon!Derek I truly do believe he would have given her that second chance. What happens afterwards is really up to her.
> 
> Someone asked me if I was going to write more stories in 'this verse' and I'm not quite sure if that meant the series-trope or this particular AU, but I think - after an unholy number of pages in my word document (it got to the point where it went on strike and no longer showed me grammar or spelling mistakes because it kept underlining certain character names and there were too many 'errors', so I apologize for any spelling mistake I might have missed in the later chapters) - this story is done, which is why I tried to give you a thorough description of what their lives would be like in this epilogue.
> 
> I do think, however, that they probably ended up adopting not one but two little carrier-boys once Szymon went to Kindergarten and as their children got older they probably heard the 'condom expiration' version of 'The Talk' more times than they could count. 
> 
> Change doesn't happen quickly and there would have been setbacks, but let me assure you that, all in all, they were happy. 
> 
> I'm going to take a little break from writing, but it probably won't be too long.
> 
> I enjoy this too much and I still have stories to finish, plus a bunch of little plotbunnies and half-written stories floating around in my fanfic folder, including, lo and behold, a Stiles!Mpreg idea (Who would have thought! I do enjoy reading Stiles!Mpreg, but literally none of my Teen Wolf mpreg canons actually work with him, Derek just always made more sense to me given he is the one who can literally alter his body-structure. But I do have an idea now and it might or might not involve a politically correct genie). One thing's for sure though, the next fic I'll write will either be total crack (I actually have a Sherrif's POV Derek!Mpreg idea outlined for that one) or super-fluffy, either way, I'd be happy to see you guys along for the ride!

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and Comments are very much appreciated!
> 
>  
> 
> EDIT (04-02-17):
> 
> There has, sadly, been some toxicity in this fandom lately and to avoid misunderstandings as to where I might stand on this I would like to point out three things: 
> 
>  
> 
> 1\. Fan Fiction is a safe space and should be treated as such. 
> 
> 2\. I do not want to be used as a weapon against another author. 
> 
> 3\. The comment sections for my stories are most certainly not the appropriate space to attack another author’s story. 
> 
> Thank you.


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